A Day of Recovery
by Okadiah
Summary: One-shot series in which the Ghost crew help their Jedi begin to recover in the aftermath of Malachor, over the course of one long day.
1. Introduction

**A/N:** All of the chapters in this story have already been posted as individual fics (so if some of the chapters seem familiar, they very well might be), but I have lined them all up here so that the fuller story, as subtle as it is, can come out. I hope you enjoy!


	2. Blind Faith

**Summary:** Faith in the Force and faith in himself had always been a hard thing for Kanan after Order 66. But in the medical bay with Hera, after surviving the hell of Malachor and losing his sight, that struggle is as strong as ever.

* * *

 **Blind Faith**

 _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace._

Kanan repeated the first code of the Jedi Order over and over again in his mind like a mantra, as Hera gently lead him by the arm into the fleet's medical bay. Gracelessly and with embarrassment he stumbled over the threshold, and it was only Hera's firm hold that kept him from toppling over. Not for the first time since Malachor did he feel as if he were a piece of wood floating aimlessly on a violent ocean, lost and confused, and sure he was going to be thrown to his death. It was only the steady and constant presence of Ezra, Hera, and the rest of the _Ghost_ crew that was keeping him stabilized, and afloat.

It was made that much worse, however, by the disorienting press of the Force as it seemed to rage and vanish repeatedly, and randomly, as if it was in flux around him. It had started ever since leaving Malachor, once he and Ezra were finally safe and not constantly alert for an attack, and it left Kanan dazed and uneasy. This new change in his physical being was of course terrifying, but it paled in comparison to this startling change in his relationship to the Force. He hoped that whatever was happening was just a temporary thing, and that it would stabilize soon. That it would stabilize as he did, once he'd adjusted to this new change in his life.

If he could.

Kanan's emotions threatened to rise once more, the fear, the anger, the dread, but he forced them down again and again with the first code as he had been for hours now, clinging to the vestiges of his peace like a starving man might cling to scraps. But he didn't show any of it. He _couldn_ _'t_ show it. He was a Jedi Knight, and the chaos of his emotions would take that away from him, and prove to everyone that he _wasn_ _'t_. He couldn't let his emotions control him, no matter how scared and in pain he was. Not if it meant he'd give everyone a reason to doubt him, in his newfound blindness. Not if it gave them a well-warranted reason to lose their faith in him. Even if it might be in their best interests if they did.

And he was terrified about what that might mean for him.

"The table's right here, luv," Hera told him gently as she placed Kanan's hand solidly on something firm but soft, a medical cushion if there ever was one. It even had the paper liner to go with it. "You're right in the center of it. Just turn around and back up. I'll stop you if it seems like you're getting too close to the sides."

Hera had been like this, clear, slow, and detailed with everything concerning his environment ever since Zeb had made a curious, but understandable comment about why Kanan had been stumbling around blind, when he had the Force to tell him where everything was. There had been no malicious intent in Zeb's comment, Kanan knew he'd been trying to understand the situation better as much as any of them were, but the Jedi couldn't ignore how much it had stung. It had been all he could do to remain calm as Ezra explained for him that though Kanan could use the Force to sense his surroundings, it took an act of effort to do it.

Generally speaking, the Jedi used their Force-senses actively and intentionally when they needed it, otherwise it was a passive thing. The reason that Kanan wasn't using the Force was because it was like a muscle that needed to be trained, and though he was great at it on the fly, or in a pinch, he didn't use the Force for everything. Most Jedi didn't. That being the case, how could it be expected of Kanan to actively Force-sense continually? It was draining, and he didn't have that kind of stamina, not yet, and so he stumbled around as anyone else would if they were sightless.

Apparently, however, his dependence on his physical senses seemed to have made him an utter invalid now.

"You know, I can just _feel_ the edges," Kanan couldn't stop himself from saying, turning his head in the direction Hera's voice was coming from. "I haven't lost my sense of touch, Hera." To prove a point, Kanan blindly found the edge of the medical table and slid both hands along the sides, defining its dimensions in terms of everything between his arms and his body, and paused only when the fingers of one of his hands tripped over smaller, slimmer, gloved ones.

Immediately Hera pulled her hand out of the way, but Kanan was slammed with a sudden jolt of panic and instead blindly reached after it … and missed. His pinkie had skimmed the worn leather of Hera's glove, but it was gone like a fish in water, and he was surprised when there was nothing in his hand when he'd fully expected there to be something. There _would_ have been something … if he'd been able to see.

Kanan didn't know why he had expected different, but it seemed that even recently blinded, he still expected the permanent darkness to lift, like a bad dream. Any minute now, the darkness would end and the pain would vanish and his eyes ….

His eyes wouldn't feel like they'd been seared out of his skull in a burning blaze of crimson light.

Warmth surrounded his outstretched hand, and it took all he had not to cling to it like a child and pull Hera into his arms. At least then, even in the darkness, he wouldn't be at risk of losing her. At least if she was within the circle of his arms, he'd know _exactly_ where she was, and not just some phantom in the dark.

And at least there, he wouldn't feel like he was a galaxy away from her, separated by nothing more than missing eyes.

But he resisted the urge, as a Jedi should. It wasn't because he thought that she'd avoid him, or push him away. Kanan knew better than that. No, he just didn't want to make her worry any more than she already was. She had enough on her plate, given everything that had happened on Malachor. As Phoenix Captain, and Captain of the _Ghost_ crew, she would be left to handle everything, now that Kanan was unable to. He didn't want to add his worries and fears to the burden placed on her.

Instead he gently closed his larger hand around hers and focused on not clutching it too tightly. He wanted to give the impression of calm, strong, and natural. The sound of Hera's lips parting though, drawing a delicate breath for what he knew was about to be a question, was suddenly interrupted by the hiss-slide sound of the medical bay doors opening. The sound of bipedal footsteps on the floor broke the silence, and their hands dropped between them.

"Kanan Jarrus?"

Kanan pasted on a thin roguish smile that he didn't at all feel, and turned to the craggy voice of an old woman as it filled the air of the medical bay. The sound of her voice was harsh, and seemed to bounce off the walls to attack his ears roughly.

"That would be me."

"So you're one of the Jedi I've been hearing so much about lately?" the woman asked, her voice growing louder as she walked closer. "I thought you lot weren't supposed to get hurt, what with your mystical Force to guide you." There was a pointed, judgmental tone to her comment that made Kanan's eyebrows draw together, his voice turning hard.

"That must be why there are so many of us around, huh, Doc?" Kanan countered, controlling the burn of anger that had risen at the doctor's rude comment, while trying to cordon it off so that it might fade away harmlessly within some dark corner of his mind. Usually a comment like that would have rolled off his back, but with everything so fresh and raw, his emotions were dangerously close to the surface. He needed to keep it together. He needed to be in control. He was a Jedi Knight. If there was ever a time to act like one, now was a damn good time, even if he didn't think he had the nerves left to spare for it.

He certainly didn't have them in his eyes, as it were. He didn't think so, anyway, but then again that _was_ one of the reasons why he was here, putting up with this criticism. Although Kanan had heard rumors about the Rebel Fleet's Doctor, which had ranged from 'well-trained and capable professional' to 'wicked old crone of the med bay', she was still the only medical professional available who had a chance at rescuing his sight.

Go figure it was his luck, though, that he'd get the wicked old crone.

Beside him he felt Hera take his arm, but there was no missing the tight manner in which she held it, nor the way it felt like she'd gained an inch or two in height, as if she'd stood up straighter. That happened whenever she got it in her mind that she was about to give someone — usually him, admittedly — an earful.

"The Jedi are just as mortal as the rest of us," Hera said with an equally hard voice, one that made him glad that he wasn't on the other end of it. It was melodic to his ears, despite her anger, and in his mind, it was practically music. "They're just as vulnerable to sickness and wounds. Particularly when they are fighting other Force-users."

"Then he shouldn't have been fighting other Force-users," the old crone muttered matter-of-factly, and Kanan didn't know if he was impressed by this old woman's no-shits-given attitude, or violently repulsed by it. Regardless of where he stood on the matter however, he knew where Hera fell. Instead of risk Hera starting an argument with this old woman here in the medical bay on his behalf, he simply reached across himself to touch the hand on his arm, and shook his head.

He didn't know if she'd understood his meaning, but she didn't pursue it further. That didn't mean the grip she had on him lessened any. It didn't mean that she didn't feel as if she were a spring pressed tense, ready to move into action should she feel that this old woman had crossed any more lines.

"I take it you're the doctor?" Kanan asked, and the old woman snorted.

"Who else is there? If there is one, point them out — not that you can — so that they can replace me." Kanan's lips pressed tight at the underhanded comment, but he willed himself to let it roll of his back as she continued. "I'm old and I'm tired, and the Rebellion keeps me busier than I've ever been in the whole of my medical career."

"I would if there were one, if only to find one with more tact than you have," Hera said stiffly. Kanan imagined that her eyes were narrowed, and that hard and righteous look that came when she was offended sat firmly on her beautiful features. The image came to his mind readily enough … but he realized that it did little to sooth him. It did little, other than fill him with a sudden wave of sadness.

He'd never get to see Hera blazing with righteous brilliance again, if his sight couldn't be reclaimed. Already he was wondering if his imagination and his memories were good enough to even come close to providing an acceptable facsimile.

It pained him to realize that he didn't think so.

"Well too bad," the old woman replied, unperturbed by Hera's comment. "There isn't anyone else, and trust me, I've looked. You'll deal with me, or you leave the fleet and hope you can find someone else who won't ask questions about how or why his eyes look to have been cauterized, or who you are, or where you've come from." The sound of fabric shifting hit Kanan's ears, and he imagined the old woman had crossed her arms. In his imagination, he added an ugly scowl on her face, just because he could. "And while you're at it, hope that they'll believe you have credits enough to be able to afford bacta treatment, because I can tell you now that there's not going to be an alternative with this sort of injury."

Ugh. It was all Kanan could do not to groan at the news. Although he'd been expecting this, he'd still hoped that there might have been an alternative. It was true that the healing benefits of bacta treatment were often almost miraculous, but the smell of the stuff often left Kanan nauseous. Ever since he was a youngling back at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, lingering in the medical facilities watching Master Billaba heal, he'd always been uncomfortable with the scent. It was too strong, overwhelming, and it always made him think of her.

But he'd endure the smell and the treatment if it meant that there was any possibility _at all_ that he'd be able to get his sight back. Even only part of it, if that's all that could be saved.

"Do you think the bacta will work?" he couldn't stop himself from asking, hating how clear the hope in his otherwise calm voice was, and he heard the doctor scoff.

"How should I know? I haven't examined you properly yet. Now hurry up and get on that damn table so that we can get this over with. The smell of your charred flesh is making my dessert sit funny."

Hera's grip tightened almost imperceptibly in anger, and Kanan wondered if she knew that she was doing it. He wondered if she knew just how much she was giving away through her usually gentle touch.

Kanan wondered how he'd never noticed before.

"Well then, let's get him examined so that we can get out of your hair," Hera all but growled, clearly doing her best to keep hold of her usually civil temper. At her urging, Kanan let her direct him to sit center on the medical table, the paper below him crunching and making terrible noises, and he was absolutely positive he was going to rip a hole in it.

The old woman's footsteps neared and he was surprised when cold, covered fingers pressed into his face, directing it this way and that as she began a battery of questions.

"Is this the only reason you're here? Any other injuries?"

"I'm a little scuffed up, but that's nothing new."

"I'm not surprised," the old doctor replied blandly. "If your eyes are all I have to work with then, tell me how you were being foolish and allowed this to happen."

"I doubt that Kanan was acting foolishly when he was wounded, doctor," Hera commented coolly. "No one takes the presence of a Sith lightly." Despite Hera's pointed defense, it sounded for all the world as if the old crone had just shrugged it off.

"No one should take battle lightly, and yet it seems I'm the busiest person in the fleet because of it."

"We don't take battle lightly. No one does," argued Hera. "It's cruel and unfair to think that about your patients, don't you think? They are keeping you safe, while fighting for freedom against the Empire. And because they're willing to put their lives on the line, they are at higher risk of getting injured."

"Or killed," followed Kanan as thoughts of Ahsoka, and her fate on Malachor flowed to the front of his mind.

"I don't think it much matters what my personal opinions mean to anyone," the crone countered. "Everyone's going to put up with them anyway, because I'm the only one that can patch all of you fools up in the end."

"If you're so against the fight, then why are you here, 'patching up the fools'?"

Kanan's hold on Hera tightened. It wasn't like her to let her temper get the best of her, and he knew she wouldn't like it if she did, and he hadn't tried to stop her first.

"Hera, it's fine. She's entitled to her own opinions, and she's all we have. I'll let her call me a 'fool' all day, so long as she's still willing to do her job. That alright with you, Doctor —?" Kanan paused. The old woman hadn't exactly offered up her name when she'd come in.

"'Doctor' is fine," the old woman filled in carelessly. "It's what everyone calls me. At the very least, everyone knows exactly who to call in an emergency."

"Right," Kanan muttered slowly, ready to just get all of his over with, his heart suddenly tight and anxious about what the doctor might find, once she actually started the examination. "Do you need me to do anything?"

"Just sit tight, Jedi, though I suspect for someone like you that might be asking too much." As much as he understood where Hera was coming from, he couldn't help but admit that the old woman's sharp comments were starting to grow on Kanan a little, if he was being completely honest with himself. There was no pity there, and no pained sympathy. Not that he didn't appreciate the care and consideration that his family was giving him, but there was something stabilizing about the rude way she didn't seem to give a damn about what she said, or who she said it to. There was something relieving in not being treated like something broken beyond repair.

He did as he was instructed, and let the doctor manipulate his head this way and that before he felt her fingers drift to the sides of his head, slipping under the bandage. Kanan swallowed, anticipating what was coming next.

"This might sting."

Even with the warning, 'sting' wasn't what Kanan would have called the sharp pain that came when the doctor began removing the bandage Ezra had put on him on their way back from Malachor, and then started cleaning the wound. Ezra had insisted that they use this particular type of bandage, since it was reusable and was a type best able to hold bacta once they'd returned to the fleet. There hadn't been any bacta on the _Phantom_. Hera usually kept a very small amount of the healing agent on reserve in the _Ghost_ for extreme emergencies, but it was too hard to come by to keep in the _Phantom_ as well. It was a shame, because it was a known fact that the sooner the bacta was applied, the better it worked, and even though the amount of time spent in travel back to Chopper Base hadn't been all that long due to their haste, he still knew that the range for which the bacta would be optimally effective would have diminished. Maybe even considerably.

But hope against hope, he prayed that the bacta wouldn't have lost its effectiveness, no matter how much the Force whispered to him and made his heart sink.

"Solid cauterization, more heavily on the right side than the left," the old crone muttered as those cold fingers swept clinically around his face, careful to avoid touching the bright, burning flesh drawing a solid line across his face. "Deep," she suddenly said softly. "Very deep." Kanan heard a click from somewhere in the doctor's direction and he waited for … anything. But there was only the darkness, and he could only guess as to what the doctor was checking him for. The click came again, and this time she said, "Hold still. I'm scanning your sockets to see how extensive the nerve damage is. If you're lucky, your retinas and your optic nerves are still there."

Judging by the sound of her voice, he didn't think she thought he was lucky.

"And if not?"

"Then there's nothing bacta can do for you, Jedi. It might be possible to regrow your eyes and some of the nerves, if there are any nerves left to regrow. But if your retinas, and failing that your optic nerves, are burned off, you might have the proper organ to see, but there will be no connecting it to your nervous system. You won't regain your sight."

He didn't say anything after that. No one did.

Throughout the procedure, he kept Hera's hand in his. A little after the doctor had started her work, he'd found the seams of her glove and had begun to tug at them, slowly slipping her fingers free so that he could remove the glove to hold her hand within his without a barrier. Once she'd realized what he was trying to do, she'd immediately helped by pulling the leather all the way free and taking his hand again, holding it tightly in hers.

She was warm. She was always so warm. Twi'leks ran warmer than humans did, and that had been a _wonderful_ thing over the years when the nights in space got just a little too cold, or when they landed on an icy planet. Right now that heat dominated his attention, and the doctor kept harshly scolding him every time he'd find he'd accidentally began to turn his head in Hera's direction, or down to their clasped hands, as if that would enable him to see her.

It didn't. But it made him feel a little better at the very least. It made him feel as if he were connected to reality, when he felt so distanced from it in the never ending darkness.

"Does Commander Sato need us for anything else, Hera?" he asked gently, breaking the silence. If he focused, maybe he could pretend that the doctor wasn't there. After all, if you can't see something, it isn't really there, right? Every kid in the galaxy thought that at one time or another, when they were alone at night in the dark. He could pretend for a time now too.

"No," she replied softly from beside him, and he felt his shoulders immediately relax at the sound of her lovely alto. "After you and Ezra finished debriefing him, he told me that missions for Phoenix Squadron would be passed on to the other teams for a rotation or two. At the very least we have a day to … recover a little, and work things out."

He almost released the dark chuckle that had abruptly swelled from some pit within him. A day. A single day. What sort of healing and recovery could happen in a day?

Definitely not enough to make him useful again. Of that he felt _very_ sure.

"Hopefully you and the team can get back out there soon," Kanan said quietly as he gently squeezed her fingers. "There's still so much to do. We can't afford to have Phoenix Squadron out of the running for so long."

Kanan didn't need eyes to know that Hera was frowning at his response. He didn't know if it was the Force or just long years spent together, but he could practically _feel_ it as if it was being pressed into his skin.

"Kanan —"

"Your right side is destroyed. It would be an act of God if you're able to see from it again," the doctor cut in as if they weren't having a conversation, and Kanan didn't know if he was displeased with the blunt and rude manner of the doctor, or thankful that she'd cut Hera off from pressing him into explaining why he'd carefully omitted himself from the squadron's future activity. "The left side, however might be salvageable. And I say that with a _generous_ dose of optimism."

That made sense. Maul had struck him from right to left, not that it had felt any different as the Sith's lightsaber had seared into him. Kanan was about to make a comment about the doctor's 'optimism', but Hera's voice shot out before his.

"Would he be able to have full use of his eye, if the bacta works well?"

Kanan heard fabric shift in front of him, and thought that it might have been the doctor shrugging her shoulders.

"Hard to say. If the eye does heal, there's a chance that the nerves will connect and he'll be able to use it again. More likely, however, is that the retina and optic nerve will be usable, but they won't connect to the eye correctly, and he'll still be blind."

"But if the nerves are still usable, is there a possibility we could look into cybernetic implants?"

Kanan couldn't stop himself at the very thought of cybernetics. "And look like Vidian? I don't know about that, Hera. I might just take blindness over that alternative."

She rolled her eyes. She _had_ to have rolled her eyes at that one, he just _knew_ it, and he tried to be satisfied with the small huff she gave him as a sign that he was right. He tried to be satisfied with imagining her rolling her beautiful emerald eyes. He focused hard on the lie.

It might have almost worked.

"Count Vidian was a walking cybernetic implant. This would just be an eye," she chided, and he couldn't help how his lips pulled up into a weak, appeasing smile.

"Alright, alright! Just so long as I can shoot blaster bolts out of it too."

"You'd shoot through your eyelid if that were the case," she scoffed and Kanan chuckled. He very well might.

"Blaster cybernetic implants aside," cut in the doctor with a put-upon huff, "Although yes, there might be the possibility of cybernetic implants, that's only an option _if_ the nerves are able to be repaired. And I think you're overestimating the amount of optimism I'm giving his left side to heal. It's more than likely that the bacta isn't going to be able to fix the left side either. It's only a very small chance that the bacta will work well enough for an alternative visual procedure."

The room went quiet, very quiet, and suddenly the Force surged and was _everywhere_ again. As if someone had spontaneously decided to turn up the Force's power-level from 'stun' to 'kill', and he felt as if he were being compressed from every direction. Vertigo swamped his senses, and he had no idea what was up, or down, or if he was even still on the medical table anymore, but throughout the sudden onslaught of inner Force-sensitivity … he found he knew something. Like the Force had whispered something subliminally into the back of his mind a while ago, and he was only now realizing the full extent of what that message was. Why if felt as if the Force were surging throughout every fiber of his being … but the space where his eyes should have been.

With certainty, _utter_ certainty, he knew that the bacta wouldn't work. There would be no saving his sight.

"Kanan?"

The Jedi Knight relaxed the tight hold he'd had on Hera's hand as the world settled around him again, feeling as if he had all the room in the world to breath, even if his heart felt intensely tight. He forced his face carefully blank, Jedi blank, and turned to her.

"Hmm?"

"This is great news, isn't it, luv?" Hera said in an uplifting tone filled with sharp hope. "Even if it's not all of your sight, there's still a _chance_ that you might be able to see again, even if it's just one eye." Kanan's heart pulled tighter because he suddenly _knew_ she didn't believe her own words. That sharp tone was the one she used when she was giving false hope.

For some reason, despite what the doctor had told them, Hera hadn't believed her. He wondered if the doctor had indicated to Hera the truth silently, to keep it from him. As unlikely as that seemed, given the doctor's attitude, Kanan suspected that was what had happened. Perhaps the old crone had some tact after all.

And if Hera wanted to give him false hope, then who was he to deny such a well-intentioned gift? Still, it was a struggle not to let his grin wobble as he said, "Best news I've had all day."

As the doctor worked on applying the bacta to the bandage, programming the dispersal system to ensure that none of the precious healing agent was wasted, unease sat like a stone in Kanan's gut. He should tell her. If there was anyone in the whole of the galaxy he should tell the truth to, it should be Hera, but the words felt lodged in his throat. She was trying to give him hope, and he was trying to give her hope that he'd believed her, but what good would that do either of them, when they both knew the truth? It was better to tell the truth than live the lie and allow the fallout to intensify for it. He should tell her.

"That should be that, for now. Come back in a few days so that we can see how the healing is coming along," the doctor said finally in a soft voice as her hands left the sides of his face after replacing the bandage. The cold feel of the bacta felt good, at first, but the longer it sat on his tortured flesh, the more a burning sensation began to build. Kanan didn't know if it was from the fresh application of the bacta, or his abused flesh screaming again at having something foreign on it once more, but the feeling was only growing.

"Oh, and before I forget." That was the only warning he got before his Force-senses flared enough to comprehend a quick movement, moments before a sharp pain hit his bicep.

"Hey!" Involuntarily he reached a hand up to seize whatever it was that the doctor had hit him with, but she'd retrieved it before he could catch her. Almost immediately the pain began to subside from sharp and burning to a deep, low throb, and his brow furrow. "What did you do?"

"Just gave you some pain-killers to help with the pain. You should be feeling it now."

"Yeah, I am," he muttered wearily, his senses up and ready in case she tried to pull another fast one on him. "Warn me next time, Doc."

"I thought you Jedi were supposed to be aware of things like that."

Kanan frowned in the doctor's direction. "I didn't think I had to be aware of an attack here, of all places."

"Then maybe your lack of discipline is what has led to this whole problem," the old woman said coolly, but before Kanan could say anything to defend himself, her craggy voice rolled out again. "Captain Syndulla, if you don't mind, I'm old and diminutive, and I need help reaching a walking stick that's in storage for this blind fool. It should hold him over until we can find something better."

Kanan half expected Hera to make some sort of sharp retort, payment for all the rude treatment Kanan had received, but after a long, quiet moment, he felt Hera begin to release his hand.

"Alright," she agreed, and he felt her stand before that warmer-than-normal hand rested on his shoulder. "I'll be right back. If you need anything, just call for me and I'll be right here. It shouldn't take long."

"It's just a walking stick," he chuckled, not feeling it. "Go show the old doctor what it means to be young and capable."

"You'll eat your words the next time you need me to fix you up," came the aged voice from further away, right before the door hissed open and her footsteps took her out. Hera's hand lingered on him for a moment before it slipped off of his shoulder, and he listened to her footsteps move away.

"Don't hesitate to call me if you need me," she said, and Kanan grinned at her flirtatiously, falling back on old habits out of familiarity and comfort.

"If you don't get out of here soon, I'm going to start getting the idea that you don't _want_ to go. I can promise you that even blind, I could make it worth your while, if you stay."

He could practically _see_ her rolling her eyes at him. "Of course, only _you_ would act as if your injury didn't mean anything."

"Why should it? Blindfolds can be sexy, you know," he replied, his grin widening, and he heard her soft chuckle before she turned and walked out of the room, the door hissing behind her.

As the silence settled around him as he sat alone in the medical room, his grin faded, and whatever it was that had kept his back tall and strong slipped away as well. In moments, it was all he could do to hunch over, forearms resting on his thighs as he fought the old urge to run his fingers through his hair, or along the edges of the bandage and feel the damage for himself now that it was medically treated. But that was a bad idea, and a stupid one at that. All it would take was a careless breech of the bandage, and he might risk a deadly infection, and more verbal abuse from the witch of a doctor.

The silence of the room pounded into his ears, making them ring with the silence, and to distract himself from the maddening nothing, he focused on what he could hear. There were the soft beeps and whirls of the machinery and droids around him. There was the buzz of the electricity in the lights. There was the sound of his blood pounding through his ears. There was the sound of muffled voices, so small and indistinct that he could hardly make out a word.

But even muffled, he knew the sound of Hera's soothing alto anywhere.

Unable to stop himself, and desperate for something familiar in the numb and lonely darkness, he began focusing on her voice. With his normal hearing, he couldn't make out much, just mumbled gibberish, but with a breath he focused his hearing and gently opened himself up to the Force. It was an old Force honing technique that younglings were taught, to improve their physical senses using the Force. It hadn't always been something that he was great at, but if there was ever a time to start getting good at it, it was now.

With increasing focus as the moments passed, he concentrated on the muffled sound of Hera's voice as if it were a channel on the comm that he was trying to tune into for the best reception. It took him a few moments, but after patiently negotiating with the Force, her voice suddenly shifted into crystal clear focus, as if he were standing right next to her, and a little pleasure sat within Kanan's chest for this small triumph.

But it fell when he started catching on to what Hera was talking to the doctor about, in secret.

"You're positive," Hera's voice asked quietly, harsh with strain as she pushed out her words. "The bacta isn't going to work?"

"It might rebuild his eyes and the flesh that was damaged, and it might even rebuild some of his nerves, but it won't be able to reconnect the organ to allow for sight, or even an implant. His eyes will be vestigialar and nothing more, once the bacta is done. He might be easier to look at, at least."

"I don't care what he looks like!" Hera said firmly in response, almost shouting it at the old woman, and Kanan's breath lodged in his throat as he continued to listen. "I care about him feeling capable again! I care about him being able to see, instead of stumbling around as if he's lost. I care about him being _him_ , and being able to _be_ him!"

Kanan's chest ached with Hera's admission. This woman loved him so much, and what good was he now? What was he doing, but causing her more pain and suffering, and making her life hard? Making her worry so deeply.

Silence filled the hall where Hera and the doctor were having their furtive conversation, and an old sigh filled the air.

"I'm sorry, Captain Syndulla. I know this isn't the news you want to hear."

Hera didn't say anything in response, and Kanan had to strain himself to hear anything other than that. For a moment he thought that he'd lost his concentration, and that he'd lost his Force-enhanced hearing, but he heard footsteps moving away, lighter footsteps that lacked the confident tempo Hera owned. Soon they disappeared behind the hiss of a door opening and shutting, and the air once again fell silent.

And then he'd heard the sudden, sharp intake of breath, and the quietest of sobs.

Shock and alarm roared through Kanan, as he realized he was hearing Hera, but in that moment of insight his focus seemed to snap, and everything once again went silent. Well, not silent. Not really. It was just his normal hearing in the sound of the empty medical bay, and the suddenness of the transition left him reeling. His mind ached and raced as despair flowed around his heart like a harsh current.

She had been crying. He'd _heard_ it, and it tore him apart. Hera was so strong, the strongest person he knew, and she was grieving for _him_. Kanan even suspected he'd heard the sound of tears sliding down her skin, and falling to the floor below, right before he'd lost his concentration. Hera was crying for _him_.

In the silence a pained sound rose into the air from him, a stifled, agonized groan, or a pained whine, he didn't know. All he knew was that his heart ached deeply. Hera was crying, alone in the middle of the hall _for him_. For what he'd experienced, and what he'd lost. And what was worse was that she was hiding it _from_ him. She was trying to be strong for him, and was hiding her pain from him, and it felt _wrong_. She shouldn't be out there alone, being so strong. She _should not_ be alone.

He toppled forward onto the floor before he even realized he'd begun pushing himself off the table. He caught himself late, but still managed to land on his hands and knees before his face slammed into the ground. The sudden movement caused the wound on his face to pound horribly, but he ignored it as he shot his hands out, frantic, trying to find the table again so that he could pull himself back up and orient himself, his thoughts racing as he just wanted to _get to her_. But the darkness was everywhere, and it didn't let up no matter how much he willed it to. It was just stifling darkness, everywhere, and it was only as he found the table and began to force himself into an upright position, tentative on his own feet, that he reached out with his mind, anxiously connecting to the Force.

On instinct he shot out his Force-senses, trying to feel out for the door, for Hera, but when he did, he swayed dangerously and had to hold onto the edge of the medical table as horrible vertigo once again threatened to topple him over, the feeling made that much worse because of his blinded state. The world, through his connection to the Force, seemed to surge, echoing back to him like relentless echolocation, and he had to take a few very important breaths to prevent himself from dry heaving onto the floor. It was disorienting, and confusing, and his Force-senses felt heightened to almost unbearable sensitivity. The newfound intensity left him breathless. Had his Force-senses always been like this, only he'd never realized it because he'd never had reason to, or was it because he'd lost his sight, and the Force was ramping up to compensate when he didn't have the skill yet to harness it?

It didn't matter and he didn't care at the moment as he tried to reground himself through a few more calming breaths that didn't really help, and tried once again to focus. He could do this. He'd done this on Malachor against Maul, after all. The Force had just been there; it hadn't even seemed as if he'd lost his vision at all. He'd just _known_ , and the Force had been _there and right_. But how had he done it? Through all the pain, and all the terror and loss, Kanan had somehow managed to tune it all out and submit to the Force, trust it, and trust that it would help him fight off the old Sith, so that he could get to Ezra before the situation got worse. Before Maul could get to him.

But he didn't know _how_ he'd done it. It had all happened too fast, and too easily.

He felt blind and useless, and for an irrational moment he couldn't help but wonder if what he'd done with Maul had been a one-time thing. If it would ever happen again. If the Force had helped him just that one time, and would abandon him in the future when he needed it most.

Fear rose in him like a wave, and Kanan ruthlessly pushed it back. No. No, he refused to believe that. There were many things he was in life, a faithless, stupid coward among them, but he wasn't that now. Not since joining Hera. Not since the _Ghost_ crew needed him. Not since Ezra depended on him. Not since he finally became a Jedi Knight. He trusted the Force again, and this change in his life should not be the thing to shake his faith.

The young Kanan Jarrus, and the person who had been Caleb Dume … they would have been shaken, but that was all behind him now. He had to find a way to let go of old tendencies to doubt and suspect the Force, and instead believe that it would be there for him when he needed it. After all, he'd let the Force in finally, after years of estrangement.

Kanan knew that if he began to doubt the Force now, and his connection to it, he would turn back into what he had been, and he'd destroy _everything_ good he had now. He'd lose Ezra. The dark side of the Force would take the boy; it would only be a matter of time. He'd lose the respect and trust of Zeb, Sabine, and Chopper.

He'd lose Hera.

And that was the _last_ thing he wanted. Although the Order's laws concerning personal and emotional attachment were absolute, and although he understood the dangers that he risked by becoming attached, he knew _for a fact_ that he was better for them. He knew what it was like to live a life devoid of attachment, moving from place to place when he became too comfortable, or it became too dangerous for him to stay any longer, for risk of exposing his Jedi heritage. He knew the loneliness that that sort of life held. He knew how sick and dark and empty his soul had felt.

And because of that perspective, he knew just _how much better_ he was, here, with people who cared about him and loved him, even if he wasn't worthy. He knew how much better he was to have people _he loved_ , and could depend upon and trust.

He couldn't be who he had been, not now. He _couldn_ _'t_.

That was why he had to try to _make_ the Force work well enough for him to be useful. He _had_ to. Because if he couldn't be useful, if he couldn't keep up and hold his weight, if he couldn't be who everyone believed he was now, if he was nothing more than a burden … well, what good would he be? What could he provide the Rebellion? He'd just be a broken tool that could blindly use the Force, and what good would that do anyone? No, he needed to harness his sensitivity to the Force so that he wouldn't hold Hera and the rest of their family, or the Rebellion, back. He needed to be useful again, as soon as possible, otherwise he might get them killed.

He needed to be a Jedi of the Rebellion again. Not a Broken Jedi that almost helped defeat the Empire.

Focusing again, he reached out to the Force and _forced_.

For a moment, a single brilliant moment … he felt like he had on Malachor. Like … like he could almost see through the darkness and into the Force and back into the world and _see_. He wasn't entirely sure what it was he was seeing … but it was a sight. A type of sight, a _better_ sight, and it felt for the moment as if the world had stabilized. His vertigo settled. His heart unclenched for a moment from his panic and he experienced … he didn't even know what to call this. Expansion, maybe, or extension. He still felt like himself … but more. He felt _aware_.

But that feeling only lasted that one incredible moment before the Force heaved. Before he realized what was happening, it hammered into him relentlessly, rendering him stunned and immobile. Now that he was forcing the Force, he felt buffeted ruthlessly as all of his senses heightened past sensitivity into pain too much and too quickly to prepare for. The chaos of the Force was everywhere, screaming through him like a storm, vying for his attention in everything, and in every direction.

Instinctively Kanan pulled back, realizing his terrible mistake at having demanded of the Force, but it was like trying to close a floodgate with a torrent of water raging past, and it was slow, difficult, and painful. The Force raced through him like lightning, causing his ears to ache with all the sounds they were picking up, magnified beyond control. His sense of touch was abruptly hyper-sensitive, and he gasped as even the feel of his comfortable and well-worn clothing felt worse than steel wool. The tastes in his mouth were overwhelming, and his head felt as if it were going to explode with all the harsh medical scents plowing into his sinuses. Overwhelmed by the sensational onslaught, he threw the Force away from him desperately. It was too much! It was all too much!

The intensity lessened just as quickly as it had overwhelmed him, and he gasped, as if he'd just broken free to the surface of water after almost having drowned.

Kanan's heart pounded in his chest, a cold sweat lining his spine as he crouched over the medical table, reeling, but suddenly thankful for the numb darkness and dimmed feel of his normal senses. Somehow, by some small miracle, he was still on his feet, but he wanted nothing more than to collapse to the floor and sink through it as he realized what had happened.

A rebound. The Force had rebounded on him. It had given him exactly what he'd wanted from it, _and then some_.

His hands tightened into fists as anger rose within him at his own foolishness. Stupid. That had been utterly _moronic_. In his desperation, he'd tried to _force the Force_. What was _wrong_ with him? That was a lesson you learned when you were an Initiate, not to push the Force because the Force sometimes _pushed you back_. Initiates learned that lesson early in their training, because it was often hard to be patient and allow Force-skills to develop naturally, especially when peers developed in the Force at differing rates. It was difficult for most Initiates, and some Padawan, not to regale friends with great tales of insight, skill, and connection to the Force when it happened, and it wasn't uncommon for Initiates to try to force the connection with the Force, like he just had, out of desperation or envy or desire. More often than not, nothing would happen, but sometimes someone would get exactly what they wanted, and it would be more than they bargained for. With an Initiate, who only had a budding connection to the Force, it was never too bad of a rebound.

But for him? For a Knight deeply connected to the Force, so strongly that even when he'd shunned it, it had still forced its way back into his life?

Kanan was lucky he hadn't been driven unconscious. He was lucky that at most, it had felt like a warning, or a reprimand. But he had a feeling that if he tried again to stubbornly force his way into skills he needed to take time to develop, he might receive a punishment much worse than what he just had.

The moments passed quietly as he slowly came back to himself, grounding himself within his body and his normal senses again. His breath became something more stable as he repeated the first code over and over in an effort to attain peace. Kanan didn't know how long it had been since the episode, but he suspected it had been a long while, and finally in control again, he straightened up and let out the breath he'd been holding. He was thankful that Hera hadn't come back in while he'd been suffering, and then recovering from the rebound. He wouldn't be able to act like a Jedi, and have her believe it, otherwise.

He felt empty, though. Empty except for the heart of him, which felt like he was sporting a heavy, hurting lump. He felt chastised and embarrassed and ashamed for his reckless and foolish behavior. He was a Jedi Knight, he should have more control than this, no matter what had happened to prime him for feeling this way, no matter his past. He shouldn't have lost control of his emotions, no matter his pain, or his fear.

Kanan was a Jedi Knight, and he needed to act like one.

Regardless, he still felt that he needed to find Hera, and comfort her. But instead of using the Force right now, he'd do it on his own, like normal people did as a form of penance and apology to the Force.

Kanan sighed as he took a slow and tentative step forward in the dark, tired and disheartened and absolutely positive that he was about to run into something, or knock over something delicate or precious in the medical bay like some charging purrgil. Despite his certainty, he kept slowly putting one foot in front of the next, hand out and waiting for his inevitable collision with something, heading in the direction he thought the door was in.

He just wanted to … be alone. He just wanted to go to his cabin and sleep. And because he knew that sleep wouldn't come, he would instead try to meditate. And when he finally got tired of trying to do that, because he knew he wasn't in the frame of mind to achieve such a delicate state … he guessed he'd just keep staring into the permanent darkness, alone and cut off because he needed to show Hera and the crew that he was still strong and in control, and —

If Kanan's eyes still had eyelids — and the doctor had been very vague about that he'd noticed. Once again it would depend on the bacta, and what it would be able to help regrow — he would have blinked at the way his hand had suddenly, almost naturally, _unnaturally_ , slid along the top of narrow shoulders, the familiar feel of Hera's flight suit brushing his fingertips. Hera jumped, and Kanan felt her head jerk to the side, turning towards his direction as her lekku abruptly whipped around, gently whacking his arm in the process.

"Kanan! What are you doing here?" Hera chided quickly. "You should have called me. I would have heard you and helped you." Her voice was clear and filled with concern, and Kanan suspected that it had been a while since she'd started and stopped crying. How long had he been recovering from the Force-rebound? Long enough for her to regain her composure, it seemed. Should he bring it up, now that he wasn't really needed?

Hera immediately turned, holding his arm as if the floor might give out from under him if she didn't. Slowly, after she had a firm grip of him, she said, "It's a wonder that you didn't trip over anything trying to find me. You didn't even trip over the threshold of the door." The concern, and … something Kanan chose not to think of as curiosity, laced her beautiful voice, and all he did was give her a small smile that gave nothing of his thoughts away as he decided he'd let the need to comfort Hera go, for now. Hera was allowed her own secrets after all. Who was he to pry into them, even if they were about him?

"Must have gotten lucky," he said gently in response. "I was just waiting to fall on my face and make a fool of myself."

"It's a wonder you didn't," she said softly as she drew him close. "The doctor is trying to find that walking stick for you, but she thinks she misplaced it. She told me to come back tomorrow. She might have found it by then."

Kanan nodded to her, though his mind kept drifting back to the surprise that he'd found her _at all_ on his own, let alone having made it to her without tripping over anything. He hadn't been thinking about his loss of sight, in his desire to go back home to the _Ghost_. How had he done it? There was no way he could have done it on his own.

But he was still too chastised from his last interaction with the Force to be willing to admit to himself that it might have been the Force. That it might have carefully guided him, now that he wasn't trying to _make_ it work for him.

He let the question go though, too tired and down-hearted to delve deeply into it. He'd think on it later, when he felt more up to it, and wasn't feeling so unworthy.

"In that case, let's get back to the _Ghost_. I don't know about you, but I'm … kinda beat."

Hera's hold on his arm tightened in understanding, and his heart pulled at the tender gesture. "Do you want to eat something first?"

He shook his head carefully, the wound still sensitive to movement given how inflamed and horrible it felt, despite the medication.

"No. I just want to get back to the _Ghost_ and sleep."

Kanan felt Hera's body move, shifting in what he was pretty sure was a nod.

"Alright. Let's go. I'm sure the others are anxious to hear the news."

He frowned at that, before he sighed heavily, and he felt Hera stop and turn to look at him. "What is it, Kanan?"

"Hera," Kanan said softly, turning his face down in Hera's direction. "I _know_."

Silence filled the air between them for a long moment before she gave an unhappy sigh. "You overheard?"

"Well, yes, I did," he admitted, drawing her around so that he could hold her shoulders gently between his hands, stroking them with his thumbs in soothing sweeps. "But I already knew before that."

"How?" she asked, confusion clear in her voice. "The doctor was very subtle about telling me while she was examining you. Surprising, given it was her, but still, I thought she'd been successful."

Kanan gave her a small, tired smile. "The Force told me, Hera. I … I _know_ I'm never going to be able to see again," he admitted, then his smile fell a little as he added, "And your voice confirmed it."

"I'm so sorry, Kanan," she said, and he silenced her by drawing her into a careful hug, aiming his face up to avoid any accidental facial collisions. Her arms hesitantly flowed around his torso, and he sighed softly when she leaned her weight into him. It was a great relief. A great comfort, and for the time he'd allow himself this.

"Don't be. I know why you did it, and I appreciate it," he said softly, stroking her back. "I know it came with the best of intentions."

She didn't say anything for a long time as they simply held each other, and the longer he held her, the more he felt his body relaxing, the deeper the fatigue of the last few days was finally sinking into him. He was tired. Now, more than anything, he wanted to go back to the _Ghost_ with Hera and just hold her close. He wanted to hear her heart beat, he wanted to listen to her speak to him until he forgot everything that had happened, until he couldn't remember the pain, or his doubt, or his failures as a Jedi Knight, as Ezra's Master, as a comrade, or as a weapon for the Rebellion. He just wanted … a reprieve. A break from it all.

But he wasn't going to get it, and he shouldn't taunt himself with such fantasies. Not when he had to figure out a way that he could become useful again, as soon as possible. If it was possible.

"Come on," he finally said with a quiet sigh, his thoughts heavy and dark in his mind. But he let her go and he stood as tall as he could, despite how his doubt and his worry and his pain attempted to pull him down. "Let's get back to the _Ghost_."

"Right," she said softly, her hand lingering on his for a moment before she dutifully swept up his arm in hers and began to pull him along. And he let her, trusting her completely to get him back to the _Ghost_ unharmed and safe.

It was a silent journey, and he knew that there were things on her mind that she was so clearly concerned about, but she didn't say anything, and a part of him was thankful for it. He didn't know if he could be strong if she asked. He didn't know if he could still act like a Jedi if she asked. He wasn't sure he wouldn't shatter if, once she started asking, she started treating him as an invalid and side-lined him, for his own sake. He didn't think he'd be able to handle it if she thought he had lost his worth, now that he _had_.

The question kept rising in his mind, no matter how many times he tried to chase it away. What was he going to do? He was a blind Jedi now. Kanan remembered that there had been blind Jedi back at the Temple on Coruscant, and it had appeared to everyone that the limitation wasn't a problem at all for them. As if they'd never had eyes to begin with at all. But how had they done it? How long had it taken them to become independent again, to have a connection and a sensitivity so strong in the Force that their visual disability was overcome? That the Force didn't threaten to overwhelm them, like it did him. Could he do it?

And if he could, could he do it fast enough? This was another question that kept on rising repeatedly as well. With everything that was happening with the Rebellion and the Empire, with Ezra, this couldn't have come at a worse time. He would _need_ to master this limitation as soon as possible. He didn't have the luxury of time to train and figure things out. The _Ghost_ crew and Phoenix Squadron would have missions in no time. Whether it was in a few days, or a week, his family would be out on the front lines, and he … he would be useless. What could he do now for them, blind and waiting for his Force sensitivity to stabilize and grow?

Worry and despair slipped through him because … he didn't know. There were so many questions now that needed answering, and he had none. He wanted to know. He wanted to know _so badly_ , but he was tired, and thinking right now just … it wouldn't get him anywhere. His head felt heavy and ached with the stress of it all. He just wanted to be alone and … figure out how he could be useful again. How he would learn to control himself and achieve balance in the Force again.

Not for the first time did he wish for Master Billaba's patient guidance. And not for the first time, and certainly not the last, was he left without it.

As Hera lead him out of the fleet ship and into the cooling desert warmth as night began to settle, he turned his head up to the sky and imagined looking up at the stars in the deep darkness, and he silently prayed, and hoped that somehow, someway, this wasn't as bad as it seemed. That by the grace of the Force, it would all work out in the end.

Somehow.


	3. Midnight Reprieve

**Summary:** After returning to Chopper Base, Hera is concerned with Kanan's calm behavior in the wake of everything that had been lost on Malachor. Worried, Hera decides that they need to talk, deep within the quiet reprieve of the night.

* * *

 **Midnight Reprieve**

Hera stood motionless before the door to Kanan's cabin, as she had been for a while now. It was deep in the night, so deep that everything on Chopper Base, and from within the _Ghost_ , seemed so still that they might not have existed at all. As if, given everything that had happened, time had chosen to pause, holding everything within the vacuum of space immovable, and untouched as if in reprieve.

Except for her. Only she seemed to break free of the stasis.

Given the stillness of the deep night, she felt as if she were breaking a taboo, and that by doing so, she'd cause the world to start up again, bringing with it more pain and sorrow when no one was ready for it. They needed this, they all needed this, the stillness. The reprieve. But tonight, the night was no reprieve for her. It hadn't been since she'd come back to the _Ghost_ with Kanan hours ago, from the fleet's medical bay. It hadn't been since they'd parted for sleep, the rest of their family following their lead and doing the same, careful and quiet, with torn and lingering gazes that matched her own.

Hera had lain in her bunk for hours, her heart silently aching as she stared up into the darkness, waiting for morning because she knew she would get no sleep tonight. She'd listened to the idle beeps and noises of the _Ghost_ around her, comforting and familiar though they failed to bring with them their typical peace.

Thoughts about what had happened to Kanan, Ezra, and Ahsoka on Malachor chased themselves through her mind relentlessly, restlessly. Her head ached as if congested from the thoughts, and they forced away any peace that might have been had in the dark. Kanan had lost his sight, Ezra was losing his way, and Ahsoka … it was unlikely that she'd survived an encounter with Vader, and the simultaneous destruction of the Sith temple. She was beyond thankful that her boys had made it back to her and their family, but there was no denying that no matter what front her Jedi were putting up for everyone, they had come back to her damaged and changed.

And that was how she knew that if she was still awake because of these terrible truths and awful thoughts, there was no way Kanan had achieved sleep, despite the medication he'd been given to help with his pain. After so many years together, she knew him, and she knew that he was likely doing the exact same thing she was doing. Chasing thoughts, phantoms, and doubts through the dark corridors of his mind, drowning in them.

Only he was in pain, and he was alone in permanent darkness.

The thought had haunted her, and she'd left her room soon after for his. But instead of entering as she normally would, she found herself hesitating. Given all that had happened, she couldn't help but wonder if he would want her there. Sometimes Kanan needed his space after a mission, especially a bad one, to help sort out his mind, reestablish his connection to the Force, and to seek guidance. To seek clarity in the Force, and achieve peace and serenity.

She didn't think he was seeking clarity now though. As much as she wished otherwise, she didn't think he was achieving peace and serenity either. If anything, he was trying to center himself and find what little stability he could, while he could, so that he could appear to be the Jedi that they all needed and depended on. Should she deny him that? She wanted to, he needed someone, but when she'd asked earlier he'd responded … like a Jedi. He'd given responses to her in that calm Jedi way, and he'd vanished into his room. It had been disconcerting, the stoic manner in which he'd handled himself. Usually it was such a source of stability within the chaos, the Jedi in him showing through, reliable as ever. Usually his serenity felt real and natural.

This serenity … this _Jedi_ serenity … given everything that had happened, everything that was lost, and given that this was Kanan, this serenity felt strange. This serenity was the serenity of a Jedi Knight. It was the quiet stoicism of the Jedi Order, as she understood it. It was the calm that Ahsoka always seemed to possess. It was the peace that Kanan called upon when everyone needed him to be a Jedi, when _he_ needed to be a Jedi.

But … it wasn't Kanan's serenity. And Hera knew better.

As real as his calm and control might appear, her instincts and her reason were insisting that for someone, the peace he displayed was a front. Kanan was clinging to his peace in order to protect someone.

And she suspected that she knew _exactly_ who it was he was trying to protect. Just who it was he was trying to lie to. And that was what concerned Hera most.

Quietly she pressed her hand to her face, rubbing her eyes as she tried to reign in her thoughts and think, tired of the indecision. Enough. Whenever she was faced with a complicated situation or a difficult decision, and she didn't know what to do, she followed her instincts. And her instincts were telling her to get in there and talk to Kanan, before any self-destructive thoughts he was having managed to take root in the fertile soil of his psyche.

Just as she was lifting her hand to knock gently in warning, Hera blinked as the door hissed open, and Kanan stood in the doorway. He was shirtless, dressed only in a pair of dark shorts, his skin standing out warmly even in the dim nighttime lighting of the _Ghost_ , and his hair was down and an inky mess. On other occasions she would have shamelessly looked him over for a moment before scolding him for walking about like that when they had a teenage girl sleeping down the hall, and that behavior like that was setting a bad example for the boys. Such thoughts were far from her mind now, though. Despite his attractive physique and enticing state of undress, Hera's eyes remained locked on the white bacta strip that covered his eyes as it dominated her attention and made her heart tremble painfully.

Oh, Kanan.

"Well, are you going to stand out here all night?" Kanan asked quietly, hardly disturbing the night's stillness as his lips turned up in typical Kanan humor, even if it was a diminished version of it. All Hera could do, though, was continue to frown in sadness as instead of tired blue eyes, the white bacta bandage looked down on her instead. "Come on. It's cold out here."

A large, warm hand twitched forward towards her, brushing her still outstretched arm clumsily. He oriented himself before sliding it down to catch her hand, and Hera could only watch the movement in growing despair. His motions were usually so sure and confident. To see the uncertainty tore her apart.

But she held his hand firmly within hers regardless, and let him pull her inside, the door hissing closed behind her.

"Did you know I was there?" Hera asked as she followed after him, watching as he used a hand to follow the wall as a guide until he found his bunk and pulled them both down to sit on the narrow mattress. The room was dimly lit, the lights set as low as possible they might as well have been off, and she wondered if Kanan had turned them on for her, or if he even knew that they were on at all. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter, not when Kanan was smiling in her direction, still holding her hand.

"I heard you get up," he admitted softly as he began scooting back so that his back could rest against the wall, pulling her with him. "Could you hand me my pillow? Thanks." She did as he asked, pressing the pillow carefully into his waiting hand, and watched as he stuffed it between his back and the wall until he was comfortable. "I've been waiting for you to come in ever since you stopped at my door. What? Worried you'd find me in the buff? You know I wouldn't mind."

Hera couldn't control the urge to roll her eyes and look at him pointedly, but it was only after the fact, when Kanan was still looking at her with that lopsided grin, waiting, that she realized that he hadn't seen her. He didn't know, and it made her heart quake. She always rolled her eyes at him when he said teasing comments like that … and this time, he hadn't known.

Kanan's smile wavered as the moment grew thick, but it came back as he chuckled at her.

"Rolled your eyes, didn't you?"

"How could I not?" she shot back softly, her voice tight, and she knew that he'd heard it. "I wasn't sure if you were awake or not. I didn't want to disturb you if you were asleep."

One of his dark eyebrows lifted in question above the bacta bandage. "Uh-huh. You know, I've known you long enough to know when _you're_ lying, right?"

Hera couldn't help the tiny smile that slipped across her face as she settled herself more comfortably, leaning against him and his solid warmth as she held his hand in her lap. She supposed she deserved Kanan's criticism. After all, hadn't she said the same thing to him, before he left for Malachor?

"Then you must let me get away with quite a few things," she teased half-heartedly as she gazed softly at his hand.

"Only when it comes to the kids and Zeb," he agreed as he let himself relax a bit against her, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. "Now, why were you waiting so long at my door, Hera? You know I always look forward to a midnight visitation from you. You've always been welcome to walk in whenever you like."

His teeth flashed white in the darkness as he grinned in that old ladies-man way of his, and the suddenness of the old teasing made Hera grin back and knock him with an elbow. But as she did, she once again caught sight of the bacta bandage, practically glowing white in the dim light, and what mirth she'd found just as quickly vanished. Almost as if he'd been able to see it, Kanan's own demeanor also lost that light-hearted teasing quality, and his brows furrowed in concern. His hand disentangled itself from hers to find her cheek so that he could turn her face to his, and know he had her attention.

"Hera?"

"Kanan," Hera said softly as she drew up her knees, turning more to face him even though he couldn't see her do it. With a gentle touch, she pulled his hand down from her cheek, and she watched his brow furrow further, his lips pulling down slightly. "Don't. Not here. Not with me. You don't have to pretend with me."

Unable to stop herself, she let her forehead drop gently against his shoulder, just under his injured face. His loose hair tickled her skin, and she let her green eyes close in fatigue as she just breathed. He smelled faintly of smoke, which told her that he'd done little more than a wipe down with water and a towel before he'd returned with Ezra and Chopper. Following that was the scent of bacta, uncomfortably medical and a constant reminder of his new reality. She hated it. She hated both scents because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't smell _him_. She couldn't find his normal scent of leather and space and warmth anywhere, all covered up with these awful, cloying smells, and it distressed her. His scent had long been a scent she'd begun to associate with family, with safety, and with home, and to not find it on him … it was wrong, and unsettling.

His hand pulled from her hands again, but this time instead it slipped around her shoulder as he turned in to her, nuzzling the top of her bare head. Kanan's hand gently swept across the soft fabric of her night shirt to cross her spine under her lekku, anchoring itself at the juncture of her neck. He pulled her more closely against him as she slung an arm around his waist, her fingers lightly stroking the warm skin of his lower back.

They didn't say anything for a long time as they simply held each other, breathing and waiting, taking all the time in the world. Hera would wait however long it took Kanan to respond. She'd learned over the years that as gregarious as Kanan appeared, he kept his cards close to his chest, and the only thing that you could do was wait and be patient. He'd tell you in his own time, but if you tried to pry before he was ready, he'd shut you out and you'd never get in. But she knew that, and he knew she knew that, and after a very long time, he sighed, pressing his head more firmly against her own.

"Here to break me out of my head, huh?"

Her hand swept up his spine and across the broad expanse of his back, all muscle and strength and warmth, and she chuckled softly.

"Would you prefer I didn't?"

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't try," he replied softly, tender affection in his voice, and she couldn't help smiling a little at that. He was right. He knew her as well as she knew him.

"Someone's got to take care of you."

"I'll have you remember that I got along just fine for years taking care of myself, before we met on Gorse," Kanan pointed out, his voice sounding a little more like himself.

"If you think being a loner, vagabond, smuggling, brawling, ladies-man is considered adequately taking care of yourself, then you are delusional." She chuckled at him, remembering how he was when she first met him versus how he was now. "Face it, Kanan. You're better and you're happier knowing that I'm here to take care of you. And your messes."

"No truer words," he agreed as he held her tenderly against him. "You got me."

Silence crept in between them again as they held each other, hands stroking soothing circles over skin before Hera's patience once again won out, and Kanan sighed, his body seeming to deflate as his humor left him.

"Talk to me, Hera." His request was soft, almost too soft. "Just … speak. Tell me your concerns. Tell me what you did today. Talk to me about anything and just -" Kanan's voice grew tight, and she suspected it was his stubborn control that had caused his words to cease, rather than allow the emotions to break through and run free. His grip on her, though, and the harsh, tight breathing as he fought for control, were telling. "Please. Just let me listen to your voice."

Hera's heart ached, and her eyes burned. He wanted to listen to her speak. He wanted to hear the sound of her voice.

Hadn't he told her, long ago, that it was her voice that had caught his attention that muggy night on Gorse? Hadn't he joked that she should switch careers from pilot to singer, if pilot of the Rebellion ever fell through? Hadn't she always found him nearby whenever she was humming to herself from the cockpit of the _Ghost_ within the vast depths of space in the middle of the night, when she'd thought everyone had gone to sleep? Passively, she'd always known that he liked the sound of her, but she wondered now if perhaps he'd been hiding just how much he appreciated it.

She wondered if the sound of her voice soothed him as much as his scent soothed her?

"I can't tell you how relieved I was, when I saw you, Ezra, and Chopper come off the _Phantom_ ," she confided. "I'd been worried ever since you all left. I was so worried, I'm sure that Sabine spiked the tea she'd given me after lunch to try to calm me down."

"Did it work?" questioned Kanan, his voice tight, but there was real interest there. Desperate interest. She chuckled gently at the question.

"Please. I could hardly hold down what little I'd eaten for lunch. Tea was beyond me." Her fingers stroked his back soothingly, trying to help the muscles there unwind at her gentle persistence, and she was pleased to find that it was slowly working as she kept talking. "And besides, I didn't want to take the risk that whatever she might have mixed in would put me out. I didn't want to miss any news, when it came."

"And if it had never come?"

Involuntarily, her lip trembled because although that hadn't been a possibility, it was the worst case scenario that had been running through her mind constantly since the Jedi had left for Malachor. She'd tried to distract herself with work, with Sabine and Zeb, and _Ghost_ maintenance, but none of it could pull her mind from the worry. More often than she'd ever admit, her eyes had lingered on the control panel of the _Ghost_ , waiting for … anything.

"I programmed both Chopper and the _Phantom_ to send a message back should the worst happen, or if they were destroyed," she said with a shrug. "News would have come. I was just … terrified to know what type of news it would be."

"It was still bad news, though. Ahsoka is gone. Ezra is … falling even closer to the dark side than ever. I'm …" his voice trailed off softly with a sigh, and he began pulling back a little so that he could rest more fully on the wall again. But instead of break from her hold like she was a little worried he might, he kept her close. With deft hands he gently drew one of her lekku over her shoulder, stroking its length with the softest, and most reverent of touches.

Hera swallowed at the sensation. Her lekku were very sensitive, especially since it was a rare occasion she let anyone touch them. Even though Kanan was always that rare exception, it never ceased to make her breath hitch, and cause him to smile knowingly. The warmth of his hand, as always, seemed to radiate up her head-tail to tingle pleasantly along the back of her skull, and down her spine. It was a very gentle sensation, pleasurable. Right now though, it was an incredibly comforting sensation, and she let her head gently rest against the wall next to his, closing her eyes to sink into the soft touch.

"Maybe," she finally admitted, her forehead slipping forward to rest against his as a gentle point of contact. "But I'd been prepared for so much worse. It's terrible that we lost Ahsoka … but I still got my family back." She sighed heavily before lifting a hand to cup the side of his face, her fingers slipping over the edge of the bandage and into his dark hair. "I still got _you_ back."

"And what good am I now, Hera?" There was a tired and dead tone in his voice as he confessed, the idle touches on her lekku taking on an edge of agitation. "What good am I to the Rebellion, now? To Ezra and Sabine? To Zeb?" His voice softened with pain. "What good am I to _you_? I'm _blind_ , Hera. What can I do now, but get in the way?" Kanan's hand began to shake on her lekku, and as if suddenly aware of it, he drew it quickly away, and Hera's brow furrowed at the action. She wasn't surprised by the confession though. Unhappy about it, true, but she'd suspected these had been the thoughts he'd been torturing himself with.

"There it is," Hera finally said with a weak, one-sided smile to herself, pained as it was. "I was waiting for the self-doubt, and self-depreciation. I was a little worried there. You wouldn't have been the Kanan I knew if you _weren't_ tearing yourself apart."

"Hera," he sighed unhappily, clearly displeased with how she was taking his concerns, but she wasn't going to have _any_ of it.

"No, Kanan. Don't lie to me. You may be saying and thinking those things, but I know you don't really believe them."

He chuckled darkly as he turned away from her to face the center of the cabin, back resting fully against the wall as he smiled at the darkness with satirical humor. "Yeah? What makes you think that?"

"Kanan," Hera pressed softly, heart firm as she caught his chin in her fingers and turned his head gently back in her direction, keeping his attention on her and not his dark thoughts. "Why isn't Ezra with Maul right now?"

Even in the darkness of Kanan's cabin, she could see his lips press into a tight line, especially because she knew that she had a good point. She'd been there when Kanan had debriefed Commander Sato. She knew that, even blinded, Kanan had fought off the old Sith to save Ezra. He'd used the Force to guide him, using senses that she could only guess at. If he could do something like that, so soon after losing his sight, a terrible wound that anyone other than a Jedi would have fallen to, with practice, how could he not do it again and again, with growing skill until the loss of his vision was nothing but a hurdle he'd overcome?

With determination, Hera pressed off against the wall, and slowly moved to straddle Kanan's hips so that she was once again fully facing him, ensuring that he had nowhere to go unless he forcibly pushed her off of him. His hands immediately went to her hips, stabling who, she had no idea. There were no provocative comments though, no teasing humor. There was only the thin line of his lips, and the eerie way that white strip of bandage seemed to look at her with focus, where deep blue should have been.

Gently Hera let herself rest against his thighs as she took his face between her hands once again. "If you thought you were truly worthless, Kanan, why did you come back? You could have run. You _would_ have run, when you were younger, but you didn't. And when you came back, you didn't break down, or rage. You acted like a Jedi, strong in the aftermath of what had happened, and what you had lost." She paused, her voice softening as she stroked one hand through his dark hair over and over, slow and soothingly. "Why do that at all, Kanan? Why be a Jedi, if there is no good in it? Why be a Jedi if there was no worth, even if you can't see?"

She paused again, something cracking within her, and she couldn't resist leaning forward until their noses brushed, and they shared breath.

"And if those aren't good questions, then let me ask one more. Why come back to _me_ , Kanan?" Hera's voice cracked and her eyes burned, but she pushed through it, to push through his doubts and help him through these dark thoughts before they began to take root. Before he began to believe them, and they destroyed him, and eventually took him away from her. "Why let me into your room, when you could have let me stand out there all night? Why let me this close? Why -!" She choked suddenly, desperate emotion crashing within her like a maelstrom after holding them back through sheer force of will all day. One of her hands in his hair suddenly lifted, only to slam into the metal wall behind him, thudding sharply and painfully and making Kanan flinch at the suddenness of it.

"Damn it, Kanan. If you really thought that I only wanted you for all the good you could do as a Jedi, _why come back to me_?"

"You know why," he said softly in the dark space between them, reaching up to take her hands between his to prevent her from striking at the wall again and hurting herself. "Hera, you know why."

A small sob slipped past her throat, and deep sadness layered her voice. "Then, Kanan, why do you think it means so little? Like _you_ mean so little?"

"Hera -"

"Because you don't," she said fiercely, her sadness shifting to righteous anger and she gripped his hands firmly in hers where they rested between them. "You don't mean so little. Not to me. Not to Ezra, or Sabine, or Zeb, or Chopper. And not to the Rebellion. Kanan, you have so much worth, and I _will not_ let you even _begin_ to start thinking, or start believing, otherwise. So you tripped and fell at Malachor. So your eyes -" Her voice faltered at the direct mention of his lost sight, but she pushed through. "So they're gone. We'll work around the problem and find other solutions. This isn't the end, Kanan. These are just obstacles that can be overcome, and you will overcome them. I will help you. _We_ will help you. Because that's what you do when you love someone. Because that's what family _does_."

The hands in hers gripped hers tightly, but she wasn't done. Not yet. "I will not let you start thinking this way, Kanan, so just stop _now_. I know that the thoughts will keep persisting for a while, but I will be here to knock some sense into you _every single time_." She all but shook with conviction, her heart pounding hard and desperate. "And if you're going to keep thinking about giving up, then give up when we've all died, and the Rebellion has failed. Give up when your strength leaves you and the Force no longer answers your call. Give up when you've breathed your last breath, and _only_ then, because I know that's what Kanan Jarrus _does._ That's what you do. You keep getting up even when you've been knocked down, and you don't stop. You may need some room to grieve sometimes, but you always get back up."

Her breath was coming hard, and tears were falling from her eyes. They had been for a while she suddenly realized. Her tears rained down onto Kanan, slicking his bare skin, and she cried even harder when she saw the devastated look on his face. His teeth showed in a pained grimace, eyebrows tight and so expressive as she worked desperately to eradicate his doubt and set the foundations for healthy recovery.

"So don't just put up a strong front. _Be_ the strong front, not only for all of us, but for you too." His hands trembled in hers and she held them against her heart, hoping he could feel the love that beat there for him, and the earnest nature of her words. "And it's okay if it takes some time. It's okay if it goes slow. Just please, don't think of yourself as a tool, and think of yourself as someone with inherent worth. Because I do, Kanan. I always have."

Strong arms encircled her body and she found herself pulled up against his chest. Within moments he'd all but curled around her, knees rising to help box her in against him like she was something so fragile and so precious, and not one of the steadiest pilots in the fleet. She clung to him just as tightly though. His body shuddered around her, his breath uneven and ragged with quiet and broken sobs as he clung to her like a small child might, as they hurt and they ached together.

They stayed like that for a long time, long enough for the tears to stop falling and to dry. Long enough for the sobs to stabilize into long and smooth breaths, even and steady and strong. The stillness of the night filled the air once again, and all Hera could hear was the steady beat of Kanan's heart, the draw of his breath as it relaxed and soothed her just as much as the gentle slide of his hand on her back, and on her lekku did.

After a time, Kanan broke the silence with a soft chuckle. "And here everyone thinks you never lose your composure."

"I don't," she responded softly, voice a little rough, but there was something of her normal self in it. "There's just something special about you that brings out the worst in me."

"I think it could be argued that your 'worst' might be one of the best things about you," he mused gently, sounding more and more like his normal self as well. "There's something about your passion that just … wins people over. It's practically a secret weapon of the Rebellion, if you ask me."

"Right," she said with an exasperated chuckle, shaking her head at his teasing. "Didn't work with the Protectors."

"Not every weapon has a one hundred percent accuracy rate."

Hera's small smile slipped, and she sighed against his chest. "Did it work with you?"

Kanan paused within the silence of the bunk before slowly drawing her up and close again, and she swallowed as she waited for him to pull her forward into a gentle and caring kiss.

This wasn't the first time they'd kissed, and it certainly wasn't always so chaste. But they were rare instances, precious moments filled with bright and burning meaning, and it still made her heart ache with the tenderness and the love of it every time. This kiss was gentle and soft, regardless of his chapped and dry lips, and carefully she deepened the kiss. It didn't develop into anything stronger though. This kiss was all about care and love and compassion and neither wanted it to be more than just this small, intimate, dangerous little thing. On other occasions, they'd toe the line with how far they were willing to try for, kissing and grinding and touching, but it never went much further than that.

It wasn't that she didn't want more. She did, and she knew Kanan did too. But unfortunately, it wasn't a line that they could cross, not with her position in the Rebellion, or his position as a Jedi, or with the way the galaxy was right now. It just wasn't … feasible, not if they needed to fight. Neither of them could afford any other unnecessary distractions, and to try for something more, even though they both wanted it … that would only complicate an already delicate situation.

Perhaps, once the Rebellion won, once peace and freedom had been returned to the galaxy, once they were no longer needed, given that they were all still alive … perhaps then. Once they no longer needed to be Captain Syndulla, or Jedi Knight Jarrus, once they could live in a world that didn't need them to lead and be strong, maybe then they could be something more. Maybe then she could allow herself to entertain fantasies of settling down, of marriage, of children. Of Force-sensitive little beings running around hers and Kanan's legs as Ezra taught them how to communicate with creatures through the Force, as Zeb tossed them around and secretly taught them how to fire a blaster, as Sabine encouraged artistic expression and the thrills of explosives, or while Chopper let them ride him in mad circles, making these imagined little beings scream with glee. Maybe then, she could allow herself such hopes. Maybe then.

But not now, because as much as they might desire that, to try for it now would be irresponsible and cruel, to the Rebellion, to freedom, to the _Ghost_ crew, and to themselves. They already had so much to lose, and facing that reality was already heart-breakingly difficult. But more? No. Not now, and they both knew it. They both, for the time being, accepted it, and that would be that until the situation changed enough to allow for more.

Slowly Kanan pulled away, only to press his forehead gently against hers, and in the darkness she could still see him give her a small, but honest, smile.

"You need to ask? Hera, it has _always_ worked with me." The honesty that filled his voice left no room for doubt in her mind that he was telling the truth, and the tight tension that she'd felt building and constricting her heart had begun to release as relief grew tentatively within her.

She chuckled at his reply, but smiled back at him despite him not being able to see, sensing somehow that he didn't need to see to know it was there on her lips, plain as day. Gently she threaded her hands once again into his loose hair, sliding one hand down to the curve of his jaw, then down to his neck. His smile softened at her, and on impulse she slid a finger very gently along the edges of the bacta bandage near the side of his head, where the damage was least.

"I'm going to miss your beautiful blue eyes."

A warm hand cupped hers, pulling it from the bandage to bring it to his lips as he pressed a kiss on her knuckles.

"You don't know how much I already miss your green."

She smiled sadly at her Jedi, so filled with love and care as she wondered idly if he was talking about her eyes, or her skin, or both. Gently she began shifting so that she slipped off of his lap. With a steady pull, she eased him down beside her so that they could both lay down. It was a little cramped on the narrow bunk, but it wasn't the first time that they slept next to each other like this, and they knew the ways they fit together. Usually they lay spooned, or with her curled to the side of him. But this time he nestled against her side, clinging to her as his head rested just next to hers. He lay solid and warm beside her, and his hand snaked across her body to find hers, and upon finding it he clung to it as tightly as she clung to his.

Gently she nuzzled her nose into his hair, placing a soft kiss on his brow, pleased to feel it relax under the caress.

"Sleep, luv. Sleep as long as you need to. The world can wait for a few hours for you, and I won't leave." It was a promise, one she vowed she would keep because this would be the first time that Kanan would not wake up to see the light of day, to see anything at all, and she would ensure that when he came to, he would not be alone in the dark. "I'll be right here."

"You always are, Hera," he breathed into her skin, like a prayer. His body finally began to grow lax beside her, beckoning sleep to finally take him as she held him close. "You always are."


	4. Good Old-Fashioned Fistfight

**Summary:** Usually Ezra craved Sabine's company. But not today. Today, all he wanted to do was find some time alone, away from the sins and mistakes he'd made on Malachor, but she couldn't just let him be, could she?

* * *

 **Good Old-Fashioned Fistfight**

"Hey, watch it Ezra!"

Ezra jolted in panic, ripped from his thoughts by Sabine's voice as he all but walked into her on his way out of the _Ghost_. He stumbled inelegantly to the side in a manner he knew would have made Kanan shake his head if he saw —

Ezra's mind grew numb instantly, his heart aching painfully as his mind came to a dead halt. The Padawan's throat tightened so suddenly he was surprised he could breath.

Kanan would never be able to see him make a fool of himself now, or ever again. And it was all Ezra's fault.

Anger beat hot in his chest as his heart stopped aching and began to throb instead, throb with a burning desire to find Maul again. More than anything, since leaving Malachor, all he wanted to do was jump in the _Phantom_ and take off into the galaxy to find the old Sith. He wanted it more than he could stand, and it was only because of Kanan, and what Maul had done to him — what _Ezra_ had done to him — that he hadn't taken off the very moment everyone's attention had fallen off of him.

Because when he did find Maul, he was going to make him _pay_ for what he'd done to Kanan, and for how the old Sith had manipulated Ezra's good intentions, his trust, and his stubborn desire to prove himself capable to his Master.

Ezra snorted darkly to himself. Oh, he'd proven himself alright. Proven how foolish and incompetent he was in his impatience. Again.

What sort of Jedi failed _that badly_?

"Ezra?"

Ezra blinked, suddenly aware that he'd been staring at Sabine for a long time while he'd been caught up in his pained thoughts and dark plans. He couldn't say that he was surprised to see her up so early. Sabine was one of the earliest risers on the _Ghost_ , earlier than Kanan, or Hera sometimes. The Mandalorian always seemed to be busy tinkering, shooting, or painting something that it was a wonder that she even slept at all.

"Sorry Sabine," he said softly as he moved to step around her, making for the ramp that would lead out of the _Ghost_ and to … somewhere. It was early enough in the morning that the night's chill hadn't quiet lifted, and that meant that he could go pretty much anywhere for the time being before it became too hot, and he planned to make the most of it. When he'd left his and Zeb's cabin, he hadn't really thought about where he was going to go, just that he needed to get out of the _Ghost_. It was just too stifling in the cabin he shared with the Lasat, and he couldn't focus or concentrate. He felt claustrophobic, as if he had nowhere to go. He needed to get out. He needed to get away from the quiet and gentle murmurs of Hera's voice as she helped Kanan in ways Ezra knew he never could. He just needed to get away from the hesitant fingers of his Master as Kanan searched for the mug of caf that sat right in front of him, his disposition calm and patient even in the face of his newly acquired blindness.

Most of all, he needed space away from the white bandage that displayed to the whole galaxy the evidence of the biggest mistake of Ezra's life.

Even as he moved around the tall Mandalorian, he felt her eyes watching him closely, scrutinizing him as a bird of prey might, and for an irrational moment he wished that she wasn't so clever. He wished that she wasn't so strong-minded because he would have used the Force to command her to stop. To make her stop looking at him as if he was a mistake, a failure, and the biggest problem the _Ghost_ crew had.

Because he didn't need it. He could make himself feel like that all on his own, without anyone's help.

"Where are you going, Ezra? You aren't usually up this early."

She was right. Ezra took his sleep about as serious as Zeb did. But sleep hadn't come to him last night, and it wasn't as if he felt like he deserved the sweet relief that it would have brought with it anyway. Besides, even if he had been able to sleep, he'd have woken up instantly at the muffled sound of Kanan's shout early in the morning, his terror and pain rippling through the Force as his Master emerged from a nightmare. It had been immediately followed in the Force by Hera's careful concern, care, and love. Towards the middle of the night, he'd heard Hera leave her room for Kanan's, and knew that she'd spent the night with him, providing his Master with comfort he couldn't even imagine. Ezra had practically choked on his guilt, knowing that not only had he done this to Kanan, but he'd also caused Hera, and probably the whole _Ghost_ crew, the same sort of pain too.

He made everyone suffer.

Stoically as he could, he said, "Couldn't sleep, and I'm going for a walk around the fence." It was the first place he could think of that was a reasonable excuse while also being a place he knew Sabine wouldn't be all that thrilled to go to, given everything that had happened with the giant krykna spiders. Although when push came to shove the Mandalorian would gear up and shoot with the rest of them, he'd seen the way she'd looked at the giant insects. Usually nothing phased the vibrant, explosives-happy fighter, but even though there was a lot of evidence to the contrary, on occasion he _did_ happen to have eyes and he _did_ happen to use them. He'd seen the way her sharp eyes had narrowed slightly in displeasure, and how her tall, lean body had shifted away from them, even from behind the safe side of the fence. She didn't like it there because she didn't like the spiders.

And that alone was more than enough reason to go to the fence. At least he wouldn't feel like the biggest let down in existence with the attractive, capable, and perfect Sabine there to make it all just that much more apparent.

"You mind if I tag along?"

The Lothal teenager didn't know how he managed to hold in his biting comment, or stop from raging at Sabine for doing the _one thing_ he had prayed she wouldn't. But what could he do, now that she'd asked? As much as he wanted to tell her off and tell her 'no', he _knew_ that she would likely report back to Hera and Kanan about his behavior, and he definitely didn't want that. And since that was the case, and Force-persuasion wasn't on the table, he sighed quietly to himself, but nodded anyway.

"Great! I have this new blaster I've been wanting to try out, and those spiders are exactly the type of targets I was looking for."

"That's great," he muttered in a manner that didn't hide how much he didn't care. He didn't look back at her, and just focused on ignoring her as he made his way down the ramp to hopefully put some distance between them. But her legs were longer than his, and in no time her strides enabled her to catch up. Soon she was walking in time with him, a small smile edging her lips as she looked towards the horizon where the sun was slowly rising.

Agitation burned low under his heart at the sight of her smile. It was partly fake, he could feel it in the Force that she was forcing it on her lips, but he still couldn't stop himself from biting out, "What are you happy about?" After yesterday, he couldn't have found something to be happy about if he tried.

Sabine just shrugged off his bad attitude as she said, "The sun's up, I'm about to kill me some giant spiders, you and Kanan made it back yesterday, and the _Ghost_ crew is together again. What's there _not_ to be happy about?"

"How about Ahsoka?" Ezra offered quietly into the dry desert morning. "How about Kanan's eyes?"

Silence met Ezra's words, and he noticed that the fake happy-vibe that had coated Sabine was losing its edge. It was true that both he and Kanan had made it back alive, and yes he did suppose that everything considered, it was the best that came out of the mess that was Malachor. But even knowing that, he couldn't bring himself to be happy about it. Glad, perhaps, since Kanan hadn't _died_ , like Ahsoka had, and they'd managed to get the Sith holocron and get back to everyone. But he wasn't happy.

He was sad … and filled with anger.

The walk to the fence wasn't a long one, but if felt like it was, given that neither of them said a thing. It wasn't even a companionable silence either. It was just filled with unspoken criticism and concern, and Ezra just _knew_ it was a matter of time before Sabine decided she wanted to open her mouth and poke her nose in where it didn't belong. He could sense her desire in the Force to talk to him and break the silence, and it rubbed him wrong. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want her there, and he just wanted to scream and yell and rage at everything that happened. Ezra felt like one of Sabine's bombs, triggered and about ready to detonate.

Ezra both hoped and feared that he'd detonate on _her_.

They reached the fence easily enough and began to walk its wide perimeter. Given that it was so early in the morning the giant spiders weren't out in number like they usually were. There were a few of them though, slow and lazy as he would have been this early in the morning, before Malachor. The spiders watched them and hissed a threatening warning. Ezra wanted to snarl back in challenge, and wouldn't _that_ just make an impression on Sabine?

He could just imagine Kanan's frown now.

"Hey, there's a whole lot of them over there. Let's go," she said suddenly, breaking the silence as she lifted a finger to point to a spot near an agglomeration of huge boulders. The krykna were clustered and swarming just that side of the fence, and a sudden desire to jump into the middle of them with his lightsaber blazing made his muscles ache with desire. Desire for action. Desire to move. Desire to hurt or destroy something, because anything felt better than the stagnant immobility that seemed to linger deep in his bones.

But he didn't have a lightsaber anymore. Vader had made sure of that. And worse, those were dark tendencies. Sith tendencies. And though he could open the Sith holocron, something everyone said only Sith could open, he refused to believe that that meant he _was_ one. Because he wasn't. He was _using_ his anger, not submitting to it, and he wouldn't submit to his darker desires. He was still a Jedi, and so he wouldn't.

No matter how tempting the desire was.

"You go on without me. Have a blast," Ezra mumbled as he shoved his hands into his pockets and began to plot a course away from the Mandalorian, but he was stopped when her hand clamped down on his wrist and began to pull him after her. He glared at Sabine as he stumbled, trying to plant himself on the ground stubbornly. "Sabine, let me go!"

"Just come on, Ezra. I'll even let you take a round."

"I don't _want_ to try out your new blaster!" he said firmly, his anger beginning to show through as he tried yanking his wrist out of her grasp, to no avail. "Just do it on your own. You don't need me to be there to see how great of a shot you are."

She ignored him and kept on dragging him after her, and he thought about Force-pushing her. If she wanted target practice so much, he could Force-push her right at the giant spiders and let her go to town. But that would be submitting to the dark urges that seemed to roil in his chest now, and instead he glared at her angrily. He'd be patient. Sabine had to let him go at some point, and when she did, he was out of there. Ezra was beyond caring about what Kanan or Hera would say about it. He'd be in the right because Sabine had deliberately ignored his wishes.

The crowd of krykna chittered loudly amongst themselves as they caught sight of the Padawan and the Mandalorian teenagers so close to the edge of the safe-zone. Ezra looked at them daringly now that they were so close. He may not deliberately attack them, but if _they_ gave him a reason to attack, then he'd just have to defend himself, wouldn't he? Maybe they'd break through the sensor beacons? He hoped they would. He _dared_ them, and it didn't even matter to him that the only weapon he had was his old energy slingshot, which would do nothing more than stun them. He'd find a way to take them down. He was _itching_ to.

Once Sabine had pulled Ezra into a wide and open space surrounded by the boulders on the boarders of the fence, she let him go and looked around the area appraisingly.

"This should be a good spot."

"Well, have fun terrorizing the spiders," Ezra said harshly as he rubbed his wrist, but before he could turn to leave he found himself frozen in place. The anger in his blue eyes slipped away and was immediately replaced with confusion and surprise when he saw that Sabine was starting to take off the plates of the armor she wore on her chest and arms, carefully placing them on the ground until she was clad only in her boots, pants, and her form-fitting black shirt. Ezra's eyes boggled and his mind race. Sabine _never_ took off her armor, not that he knew of anyway. Sometimes Ezra suspected she slept in it, or that it never came off, _ever_. If she was just shooting krykna, why was she taking it off? That just wasn't something she _did_.

Ezra couldn't stop the sharp bolt of desire that slipped down his spine as his imagination ran a little wild at the thought of Sabine undressing, and he had to force his eyes away. Was she going to undress more? And if so, what was she planning to do with him still here, in this secluded spot? There was no _way_ that she was planning to do the things that happened in his hormonal imagination, but _what if she was_? What should he do? What _would_ he do? Growing up on the streets of Lothal had ensured that he wasn't the most innocent minded of youth, but he'd never … he'd never done _that_ before.

"What are you doing?" he forced himself to ask, even as heat beat hard in his cheeks. He was thankful that it was still relatively dark in the twilight of dawn, and that his skin tone was dark enough to hide blushes. But he still forced himself to look up and meet her eyes, and she grinned at him. It was almost mischievous.

"Sparring practice," Sabine said with a lift of her chin. "I know that you spar with Kanan, but it's only ever swordplay. Some combat training might be useful in the future, given how often we're in battles, and I think some of the fundamentals could be applied to your lightsaber forms to improve them."

Ezra's mind was instantly turned from thoughts about Sabine, to the fact that she was criticizing him and his skill with the lightsaber. His anger was back disturbingly fast, as if it had just been waiting, and he glared at her as he crossed his arms.

"Sparring? Fundamentals training?" he asked incredulously. "I'm not a kid, Sabine. I know how to fight. And I thought that you were just here for target practice."

"I changed my mind. And this should just be a nice and easy sparring session for you then," she replied, unperturbed. "To be fair, I think Kanan would benefit from fundamentals training as well. He's good, but he's got flaws that I could pull apart if he ever got into a fight with me."

"Because that's going to happen any time soon," Ezra replied sardonically. "If you haven't noticed Sabine, Kanan's not really up to fighting anything right now. Or for a while."

 _If ever_ , he thought more quietly to himself.

The Mandalorian frowned, her lips pressing thin as her eyes narrowed. "I'd have thought you of all people would believe that Kanan's going to overcome his blindness. If any of us _should_ believe that, I'd have thought it would be you."

He shrugged, non-committal. "I never said I didn't." Truth was, he _did_ think that Kanan would overcome it. That's just what Kanan _did_. Beat odds, and do what had to be done.

Ezra just hated that his Master was in a position that he had to do it _at all_.

Sabine eyed him intensely for a long moment before she seemed to let it go, and instead put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin again.

"Come on, Ezra. No weapons, no Force, just a good old-fashioned fistfight."

The Padawan narrowed his gaze at her and used the Force to check for any ulterior motives, but found none. Just the same sort of general urge to engage in combat that came when he sensed Sabine. There wasn't even a desire to beat him to a pulp, or show him up. She just wanted him to fight and to engage her.

"I thought this was supposed to be a sparring session. I think that that's something different than a fistfight," he critiqued, his dark brows drawing down in suspicion, and she just smirked at him.

"I don't see a difference."

"Of course you don't. You're a Mandalorian, and a fully trained one," he grumbled as he watched Sabine begin to disarm herself as if he'd already agreed, carefully placing her blasters, explosives, knives, and a mind boggling amount of other weaponry that Ezra wasn't even sure was physically possible, given how light and form fitting her colorful armor was, on the ground before her. "I think it would be fairer that if I don't get to use the Force, you have to fight me with your hands tied behind your back. Otherwise I'm not sure just how much of a work out I'd be able to give you." As much as he wished he could say that his combat skills were good enough to take on Sabine, without the use of the Force to aid him, he would be _lying_ to himself. Sure, he could hold his own in a street brawl without the Force, but Sabine was Mandalorian, Imperial, and Bounty Hunter trained. She could kick his sorry carcass from one end of Atollon to the other, and back. And that was just stating a fact.

Sabine rolled her eyes, her bright multi-colored hair shifting gently in the morning wind. "Fine. We'll even the odds. Force-enhancements only. Any telekinesis and you're giving me a 'go' to start shooting you with my blasters too."

That was a threat that Ezra was fairly certain that she'd carry through with, but after a moment he agreed to the conditions. Force-enhanced movements, strength, and senses _would_ even the fight against her. It might even tip it over into his favor, but if that was the case, he'd go easy on her. If she was spoiling for a fight, then who was he to begrudge her when he was kinda feeling it as well. He just wouldn't fight her hard. Just hard enough.

Besides, it would take his mind off of Malachor. It would take his mind off of Kanan.

He began removing his old energy slingshot from his wrist, having taken it up again now that his lightsaber had been destroyed by Vader. It was another reason he wouldn't leave yet to find Maul. Although he'd managed to save the part of his old lightsaber that had contained his kyber crystal, he still needed time to assemble a new weapon, and his first had taken him weeks. He was sure he could make another one faster, but it would be finding the parts that would be more of a problem. Until then, he had to make do with what he had, and the old energy weapon felt like an old, if weak, friend.

Then he faced Sabine, opening himself up to the Force with a breath while concentrating on sending it through his muscles and his senses, becoming more sensitive and aware. His eyes narrowed at her. "Ready when you are."

She didn't even need the 'go'. She was already moving, and it was only because of Ezra's Force-enhanced reflexes that he was able to block a devastating punch to his face. He grunted with the force of it, but managed to push her away before rounding on her with a punch of his own. She swiftly dodged it, missing the first one, but Ezra was pleased when his second collided with her arm as she just managed to block it. It hadn't been a hard hit. He'd held back. As much as he was suddenly excited by the prospect of fighting and just _moving_ , he didn't want to actually hurt her. Sabine may be Mandalorian trained, but it was still _Sabine_. He didn't want to risk real injury.

"Don't hold back on me, or you're going to regret it!" she said firmly as she drop-kicked him in the chest and sent him flying to his back, knocking the wind out of him momentarily. Surprise filled him at the sudden pain, but instead of making his mind race and trip over itself at the abrupt and powerful attack, it had the opposite effect. It cleared his mind, forcing all of his thoughts and doubts and concerns about Malachor out as he groaned and began to push himself back up to look at Sabine with narrowed eyes. Right now, if he wanted to win against Sabine, he had to focus on the fight. Distracted by Malachor, Kanan, and by her female gender, he wouldn't be in the right mind to prove that he _could_ beat her.

She wanted to spar with him, to _really_ spar, and who was he to go easy on her? Maybe if he beat her, she'd even leave him alone. That thought alone was all it took to get him back on his feet and fists raised, ready and waiting. Then he flew at her and they _really_ went at it.

The fight was a flurry of limbs punching and kicking and sweeping, and it took everything Ezra had to keep up with her and avoid her deadly attacks. It was clear that they both had some obvious advantages. Sabine had formal training and years of experience, and though Ezra didn't, the Force more than made up for the deficit and he was keeping up and keeping even. He'd manage a successful series of kicks, but before he could blink she'd be gone and behind him, striking at his blind spot, and it was the Force that enabled him to dodge out of the way in time. It seemed like he _was_ giving her a bit of a run for her money though, given the sweat that was beading on her forehead and the way her chest was beginning to heave with the exertion.

But it also seemed as if she _never_ tired. Throughout the fight, her fists never slowed. Her kicks never lost their tremendous power. Her limber and lithe movements never failed, and she seemed to weave around him like the wind as she did her best to overcome his Force-improved defenses. But the Force was holding up for him too. The longer the fight went on, the more focused he felt he was becoming, the smoother, faster, stronger his movements felt and he felt _good_. He felt the Force running through him as he moved, as he practically _danced_ with Sabine, and it felt as if they fought and fought and fought for what felt like ages. Neither seemed able of getting the upper hand, no matter how hard they tried.

Just concentrating on constantly moving, with no room for his thoughts to swell and drive him mad, he found he never wanted to stop. He'd never have to think again.

Occasionally throughout the fight, Sabine would call out critiques concerning his form, or his footwork, or the way he held his fist, but instead of getting angry about the criticism like he thought he would when they first began, he found he didn't mind it at all. Whenever she corrected him, he immediately did his best to incorporate the lesson and just kept on going, just kept on moving. Soon his lungs felt like billows as he fought for air, and his heart throbbed with the exertion and he loved it. Sweat lined his body, and though this wasn't the hardest fight he'd ever been in, it was still _good_ , and he found that a smile had begun to form on his face, pulling his lips wide as he came at Sabine again and again.

And he was surprised to see that he wasn't the only one. Sabine was smiling at him as if she was having a damn good time too.

He fought harder, and she reciprocated and soon they were using the terrain around them as well, climbing and jumping and tackling and throwing and he just pressed harder, tried to move faster. Now he didn't care about who won or lost. Well, he'd like to win, sure, but that wasn't the point of it, not for him anyway. He just wanted to fight as long as he could, and Sabine was _perfect_.

It was soon evident, however, that they were both beginning to wind down. His focus was slipping a little and his body was beginning to rely more on _him_ than on the Force, but Sabine was weakening as well. They were both almost done, but he thought that he had enough in him for one final maneuver. Ezra smiled in warning at Sabine, pleasure punching through what little of the dark miasma that remained swirling around his heart. This was it.

He lunged at Sabine, trying to take the fight to the ground where they could grapple, as they had a few times already, but Sabine surprised him by catching him and flinging him into the air and away. He landed on the ground with a groan, sand everywhere on his sweating skin and he began to push himself back up. One more time. Just one more time, and he _knew_ he'd be able to take her down, and —

"Ezra, behind you!"

The sudden, fearful warning had Ezra moving instinctively, the Force guiding his movements as he abruptly pivoted and found himself face to face with one of the krykna, not even a foot away. It had raised up on six hind legs, the other two reaching in aggression, and its pincers clicked and clacked noisily in excitement. Any other time, Ezra would have been cowed, if only a little, but right now he just moved, just reacted, and with a great shout and a Force-enhanced fist, he rounded on it with all of his gathered momentum and slammed his fist into its eyes. Pain exploded in his hand at the collision against the rock-like exoskeleton, but he ignored it as the Force flowed through him, strengthening the effectiveness of the punch. He watched as the krykna all but flew away from him, thin, spidery legs flailing as it landed meters away near the other spiders.

Blaster fire immediately flew past him to strike at the krykna, to keep them at bay as a hand grabbed his shoulder and began dragging him backwards quickly, forcing him to stumble across the invisible barrier of the fence and back to safety. When Sabine had sent him flying, she must have underestimated how far he'd go, or they must have been too close to the sensor beacons. Truth was, he'd forgotten about the fence and the threat the krykna posed. He'd been so focused on Sabine, it had all faded away, forgotten in the back of his mind.

Sabine's grip on his shoulder was still tight and her blaster was still raised and ready, finger on trigger and just waiting while Ezra's fists were already back up and on guard. They both watched as the krykna he'd sent flying and she'd shot at stumbled as if disoriented, screeched into the air, then began tipsily moving away, clearly disinterested in them and the meal they might have been. It staggered again before toppling over, its spindly legs twitching and clawing at the air comically as it attempted to right itself again.

Both he and Sabine looked at each other at the same moment, and abruptly burst into laughter.

"Did you see that?" he asked with an excited smile as his fists dropped, and he ran a hand through his black hair in disbelief. "Did you see that?"

"You tried to fistfight a _krykna_!" she exclaimed as she put the safety back on her blaster before turning to him more fully, a huge smile on her face. "That was _insane_! It must have been pushed back five meters! Did you use the Force?"

"Only to strengthen my punch, but I didn't Force-push it," he admitted, his lips still pulled wide as pleasure and mirth filled him at what a stupid and successful move that had been. "I can't believe I did that."

"Believe it, you Juggernaut! Didn't think you had it in you."

They were still giggling at the event, their endorphins running high, even as they stumbled back to the wide clearing and into the growing shadows that would hide them from the heat of the sun for a while. During their fight, it seemed the sun had risen quite a bit, and even that much was enough to start effecting the temperature. When they'd started it had been a little cool from the night. Now it was warm, and it would soon be getting hot. Once they'd made it into the shadows, they collapsed on the ground next to each other. Ezra let himself fall onto his back, and sighed as he finally let his body begin to relax after the workout.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up at the pale blue morning sky and smiled, his muscles tingling, but lax. That had been good. That had been really good.

"I'm impressed, Ezra," Sabine said with a smile as she worked to catch her breath again, leaning on a nearby rock instead of laying on the ground like he was. "I won't be going easy on you next time."

"You were going easy on me?" he asked, incredulously as he looked at her, admiring the color in her hair and the way her brown eyes flashed. "You're lying. No way was that you going easy."

"I guess you'll just have to fight me again and find out," she replied with a smirk, letting her body relax as well as she looked out into the vast desert landscape. "You won't win."

"We'll just see about that," he sighed in contentment, happy to let it rest at that for the time being, and they both let the quiet in, comfortable and companionable. It was wonderful. All he heard was the desert wind, the chittering of the krykna, the soft breath of Sabine beside him, and the sound of his heart beat. It was _wonderful_.

Until, that is, Sabine broke the silence by asking, "Do you think that Kanan's going to be alright?"

A frown instantly slipped onto Ezra's lips as his good humor began to slip away and die, replacing itself slowly with the dark thoughts that he'd been free from while fighting.

"Yeah, Sabine," he breathed, his voice noticeably dull and listless as he just stared at the sky, hoping it would eat him up whole. "He's Kanan. He'll be alright. Besides, Hera's there to take care of him. He'll be … on his feet in no time."

The silence descended again, no longer companionable but tense with concern, and he knew that Sabine was looking at him. He ignored it though. Ignored her worried eyes, and whatever else he might find there that he didn't want to deal with.

"You know, we're all here for you too, Ezra," she said softly, and Ezra wished that his hearing was as gone as Kanan's sight right now. "Kanan wasn't the only one that came back hurt. It's obvious that you did too."

"You're seeing things," he said blandly as he pushed himself up to standing, ignoring the way his well-used muscles shook and resisted him. He walked over to where he'd left his energy slingshot and picked it up and strapped it on. "There's nothing wrong with me, Sabine."

He heard her move and he watched quietly as she quickly and efficiently began to reattach the panels of her armor again, and sheath and holster her weapons. When she was finished, he turned and said, "See you later. Thanks for the spar." Hopefully that was clear enough for her that she should leave him alone now. He didn't know where he'd go, but so long as it was away from the _Ghost_ and away from her questions, he didn't care.

Unfortunately, it seemed she wasn't going to let him get away that easily, not when her hand suddenly latched onto his wrist for the second time today.

"Listen, Ezra." Ezra stopped in his tracks and resisted the urge to jerk his wrist from her hold and run. Instead he swallowed the growing burn of agitation and anger that was building because she was putting her nose where it didn't belong, and looked up at the Mandalorian coolly. She was frowning, and her eyes were down and looking at the ground in a manner that usually meant that she was thinking or troubled. This, Ezra decided, might be a clear mixture of the two.

"Sabine?" he asked when she hadn't said anything, because if she wasn't going to say what was on her mind she might as well let him go on his way, but her frown deepened for a moment before she looked up at him with hard, but concerned eyes.

"I know that you think that I'm going to tell Hera and Kanan if I think there's something wrong with you." Ezra's heart sank and threatened to go numb as his gaze immediately dropped from hers. He _knew_ it. But as his gaze dropped, he hissed in pain as Sabine's grip grew tight enough to bruise.

"Let go, Sabine!" he growled angrily, looking up at her again, but he was met with the hard glare of an angry Mandalorian.

"If you're worried about that, Ezra, don't be. I'm not going to tell them anything."

The anger and the fight in Ezra slipped away from him a little, leaving him with his confusion and suspicion. "You're … not?"

"No, I'm not," she echoed back, raising her chin defiantly. Ezra continued to look at the colorful Mandalorian in disbelief.

"Why?"

"Do you _want_ me to tell them?" Sabine asked, eyebrows drawn and brown eyes pointed. "I'm not going to tell them because it's not my job to. And because this is already hard enough on everyone, especially you. I know what that's like, thinking people don't trust you and that they're waiting for you to mess up again." Her voice softened and her eyes lost a little of the fire that had held him relentlessly. "I know what it's like to feel like a failure."

"Please. As if _you_ could fail at anything," Ezra bit out spitefully, his anger abrupt and sharp as his fists clenched tight, his teeth bared. "You're perfect at everything. You've probably never failed at anything in your life!"

He immediately realized he'd spoken foolishly and thoughtlessly when a fist plowed into the side of his face faster than his Force-senses could track. He staggered, hand on his jaw as Sabine looked at him with fury and narrowed eyes.

"You don't know me, Ezra! You don't have the right to say that," Sabine said savagely, and it was all Ezra could do to hold his ground and not shrink back further under the intensity of Sabine's rage. "I may not have done whatever it was you did on Malachor. I may not have indirectly lead to Kanan's blindness, or had a part in Ahsoka's death, if you're even guilty of those crimes." Ezra opened his mouth to argue that he _was_ guilty of those crimes, but Sabine's eyes hardened and she spoke over him, intent on getting her point across. "But I have things in my past that I'm not proud of that haunt me at night too, and I wouldn't want anyone spying on me because of them. So I won't do it to you."

Her brown eyes _dared_ him to try and say anything in the face of that, and they held each other's attention for a long time in a silent battle of wills before Ezra sighed and looked away ashamed, his jaw aching. He deserved that. In his anger and self-pity, he'd gotten it into his mind that he was the only person who ever screwed up, when that just wasn't the case. He lived with an entire _crew_ of people who'd had lives of their own, before meeting him, and there was no telling what sort of dark secrets they were keeping hidden within their hearts and souls. Who was he to assume that they'd never made a mistake before in their lives?

But even knowing that, it was hard to convince himself that any of _their_ mistakes held a match to his. As a matter of fact, he didn't convince himself at all, but he did understand the point Sabine was trying to make.

"Why'd you want to spar with me, Sabine?" Ezra finally asked with a frown. "You like to train on your own, and you don't usually go out of your way to spar with anyone. What's your reason, really?"

Ezra watched as Sabine crossed her arms, frowning and looking away as well into the dim morning shadows.

"I know what it's like to need an outlet. It's easy for me and Zeb and Hera to just shoot the krykna and feel alright about it, but for Kanan and for you? You're Jedi, and I know that it's a bad thing for you to intentionally hurt or destroy something because it'll feel good and relieve the stress. That's supposed to be dark side stuff. What Sith, like Vader and the Inquisitors do. Right?"

The Padawan nodded, looking up slowly. Their eyes met and Sabine held his firmly. "I asked you to spar because sometimes fighting is a good outlet. I know it is for me, and we all know it is for Zeb. I just figured that you'd be able to have that outlet if your opponent was someone safe that could give you a challenge. That way you're not really hurting anyone, and you get some of your aggression out. That's all."

His blue eyes regarded her for a long time as his Force-senses slipped out to feel her emotions, and he couldn't say he was surprised when he found nothing but frank honestly. She'd been trying to help him, in one of the few ways she knew how, given that she knew he didn't want to talk.

And, knowing that, he was surprised to find that he _did_ feel better, even taking into account his stupid accusation. He may not feel a whole lot better, but … he did feel better. The tight feeling in his chest wasn't so tight anymore. The anger thriving in the pits of his heart didn't feel like it was as hot. The itch in his muscles was softer, almost unnoticeable, and his body felt like it did after a mission. Used, but comfortable.

It felt like he could think again, more rationally anyway. It felt like he could finally access the cooler part of the Force, the part that Kanan worked so hard to help him understand. He hadn't realized it, but the Force was starting to feel hot and agitated. Powerful when it used to feel serene. After sparring with Sabine, the Force felt like that, more serene, and it felt as if cool water was being gently poured over the fire of his heart. Soothing. Relaxing. Good … or better, anyway. He wasn't a fool though. He knew that in a little while it would be back to the hot burn of anger and the serenity would be gone, but for now … for now it was a relief, and he appreciated it.

"Thanks, Sabine," Ezra finally said, rubbing his neck as he looked away, a little uneasy. "I do feel better."

"Don't mention it," she said with a small smile. "I'm always here to help. Especially when it comes to fighting against women." Ezra blinked at the abrupt change in trajectory their conversation was taking as Sabine moved the conversation from the heavy and painful topics to something more manageable. "If you train like that every time you fight me, then when you're up against a woman like Ketsu, you're going to lose."

"Did you think for a moment that maybe I _was_ trying to fight you seriously? I'm not the one that's had combat training since they were born."

Sabine snorted, her lips twitching up into a smirk. "Oh, maybe. But I also know that you were pulling your punches, in the beginning at least. I appreciate the sentiment though."

Ezra couldn't help the smile that Sabine somehow seemed to pull out of him, no matter how he tried to resist it. "What can I say? I wouldn't want to hurt your pretty face."

Sabine rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him, but a fuller smile slipped onto her lips at the complement. "I can protect my face just fine. Here." Something sailed through the air, and it was because of Ezra's Force-enhanced reflexes that he caught the object deftly. He blinked when he saw that it was a blaster holstered in leather, the one she'd used against the krykna. It wasn't one of her usual WESTAR-35 blaster pistols, but a different one. "That's the new blaster I was talking about earlier. You should use it for now, until you fix your lightsaber."

Ezra's brow furrowed as he looked between Sabine and the blaster in his hand, stunned. "But you never let anyone use your weapons. Not unless it's an emergency."

Sabine gave a half-hearted shrug as she looked away towards the horizon. "I think I can trust you to take care of it. Besides, it's a lot more powerful than your slingshot, and I think that you got used to that sort of power with your lightsaber. Right?"

"Right," he agreed thoughtlessly, still surprised by the unexpected trust and generosity. "Thanks, Sabine."

Slowly he took hold of the grip of the blaster pistol and upholstered it. It wasn't as sleek as Sabine's usual weapons, but it felt good in his hand as he examined it. He ensured it was set to 'stun' and, taking careful aim, he fired a bolt at a precariously balanced rock nearby. The kick shook his hand a little, and he needed to remind himself in the future to hold the blaster more firmly, but he was pleased and impressed when the bolt struck the rock cleanly, shooting it back into the small hoard of krykna. The giant spiders jumped and dispersed with hissing, chittering displeasure. Both Ezra and Sabine smiled at the display, and Ezra holstered the pistol again before attaching it to his waist. It wasn't the comforting weight of his lightsaber, but it was something close.

"Come on. Let's go back to the _Ghost_. It's starting to warm up a bit and I don't want to be caught out in this sun any longer than I have to."

At the mention of the _Ghost_ , Ezra's smile faded, and the tight feeling in his chest began to return. Kanan was there, and all the proof of his failures as well. It was the last place he wanted to be, and though he knew that he'd have to come back at some point, he didn't want to do it now.

"You go," he said, frowning a little when it was clear from his voice alone that what little mirth he'd had was gone. "I'm going to stay out here a little while longer."

Sabine looked at him for a long moment before she finally sighed, but nodded, much to Ezra's relief. "Alright. Just don't get sunstroke out here. I'll see you later."

"Yeah," the Padawan replied softly as he watched Sabine turn to leave. But before she left, he called out, "Hey, Sabine!" The Mandalorian paused and turned to look at him, eyes curious, and he gave her a half-hearted smile before saying, "Thanks. Really. I … I really appreciated this."

Sabine gave a small smile before her eyes brightened a little. "Then let's spar every day. I can promise you now, though, that I won't be as easy on you as Kanan is."

"And I won't go easy on _you_ either," he replied with a stronger smile, and she nodded to him before turning away again to make her way back to the _Ghost_.

Ezra watched her go, tracking her across the hot desert sand until she vanished into the shimmering image of the _Ghost_ , small next to the huge fleet ships. Once she was gone from sight, he returned to the shadows of the boulders and sat, taking in as deep a breath as he could. He held it, feeling it expand his lungs and his chest, before he slowly let it out, releasing the strain and he let his gaze slip out onto the vast Atollon desert. It seemed to go on for miles and miles, growing brighter and more blinding as the sun continued to rise, and he found himself drawing peace from the view. It was empty, and void of life, and so vast. It was a little like Lothal in that regard. Large and open, seeming to go on forever.

The Padawan closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the boulder behind him, and continued to breath as he imagined what it would be like to be lost in all that empty space. Lost, with no one to hurt. Lost, where none of his sins or his guilt could find him as they faded into the horizon, and into nothingness. Lost from Kanan, the crew, and the Force.

Lost from himself.

It was the first bit of peace he'd found since coming back. He prayed that it would last.

But he knew it wouldn't.


	5. Zen and the Art of Soul Bearing

**Summary:** Zeb wasn't good at this sort of thing. He really wasn't. But there was no denying that Ezra wasn't handling Malachor well, and his instincts told him that he might be the only one that the kid would open up to. Unfortunately.

* * *

 **Zen and the Art of Soul Bearing**

Zeb looked at the stack of sensor beacons with scrupulous green eyes before running a hand over his head and turning away, satisfied, but reluctant about it. He'd managed to scrape together more than two dozen of the beacons for this 'mission', and hopefully he wouldn't need any more than what he had. He _really_ hoped he wouldn't need any more than these.

But at the very least, he thought there should be enough for him and the kid.

With his mind made, he exited the _Phantom_ and began heading for the cabin he shared with Ezra. The boy had come in from the sweltering heat a few hours ago — after getting up earlier than Zeb would have ever believed possible — and it was as if gravity had increased in the _Ghost_. He wasn't the only one to notice either. He'd seen the blind 'look' Kanan had cast in Ezra's direction after the kid had vanished into their shared cabin the moment he'd come back, dark and moody, and Hera's gaze had been just as telling. They were concerned, and it permeated the _Ghost_ like an unpleasant scent you just couldn't get away from.

The Lasat hated it. When one of them was in a mood, it spread through the rest of the crew like a virus, made worse because there was no getting away from it. Usually it was just mutual caution in reaction to Hera's anger at one of them for not having done what she'd asked, but this was different. There was a heavy darkness that seemed to hang on the kid, a real bad kind, and they could all sense it. Maybe it was Ashla, or the Force, or empathy, or body language, but whatever it was that made them all so sensitive to Ezra right now, it was distracting and nauseating in the cramped space of the _Ghost_. It wasn't doing anyone any good, especially Ezra, and Zeb suspected that the more the others reacted to the kid's bad mood, the worse his mood would get.

And that was where he decided he'd step in. The boy needed to get out of here. Not just out of the _Ghost_ , but away from Chopper Base. He needed space and freedom, more than the small safe zone could provide with all of its rebels and droids everywhere. Zeb knew what that was like, how it felt as if he was trapped with nowhere to go because no matter where he turned, there was someone there under foot. He was getting itchy, and he knew that if he was, Ezra _definitely_ was too.

The hiss of their cabin door heralded the Lasat's entrance, but he almost took a step back immediately. It felt as if a miasma sat concentrated and oppressive within the room. Ezra's back was turned to him from where he lay on his side from the top bunk, but it was more than evident that wherever this heavy feeling was coming from, it was him. Zeb didn't know if it was the Force reacting to Ezra that seemed to make the air in the room dense, or if it was his sharper instinctive and intuitive senses as a Lasat, but whatever it was, it was uncomfortable.

With a hard frown, he pushed through it and entered the room. He'd been Captain of the Lasan High Honor Guard. No way was a kid's bad mood going to stop him from going through with his plan. Zeb knew that he _probably_ shouldn't do this — the kid could be a _little_ dangerous when pushed — but his instincts had been bothering him all morning, and he knew from experience that they would continue to relentlessly hassle him if he didn't do _something_ about Ezra.

And he also sensed that, if he didn't do something, the boy and the rest of the _Ghost_ crew would all be in a bad way. Ever since Lira San, his instincts felt sharp and attuned, and he knew it was better to follow them than resist.

So he would, even if it was uncomfortable and had to deal with a moody teenager all afternoon for it.

"You awake, kid?"

"What do you think?" Ezra's voice whipped out almost spitefully, and Zeb narrowed his eyes at the tone, but refused to let it deter him.

"Come on. I've got something to show you."

The line of the kid's back turned hard, and the Lasat watched as he curled deeper into his bunk. "I'll look at it later. Just leave me alone, Zeb. I'm trying to meditate."

Zeb sighed unsurprised as he rolled his eyes. He knew a lie when he heard one, and he didn't even need his instincts for that. Seemed the diplomatic way wasn't going to work, not that he'd thought that it would, all things considered. But he'd given it a shot. Now, it looked like it was time for Plan B, and Zeb couldn't stop from smirking. It had been the plan he'd preferred anyway.

Right, then.

With a firm pull, the Lasat curled his purple arm around Ezra and pulled until the boy was off of his bunk. Zeb wasn't going to put up with this nonsense. This would do the kid good.

"You too?" exclaimed Ezra in outrage as Zeb swung the kid under his arm, ignoring the way Ezra pounded on his back and arms as if he expected that to make the Lasat release him. Zeb snorted. Please. He barely felt the kid's efforts. "Let me go, Zeb!"

"I don't think so," he said in reply as he exited their cabin and began walking through the _Ghost._ "We're going on a little trip."

No one was there to hear Ezra's angry shouts. The Rust Bucket was out somewhere with his new friend, AP-5, doing Ashla knew what. Sabine had gone with Hera and Kanan to the main fleet ship for lunch, which both Ezra and Zeb had opted out of. They were alone, and there wasn't a soul around to help Ezra get out of this.

"I don't _want_ to go on a 'little trip'," Ezra snarled angrily. "Just leave me alone, Zeb! I have meditation I have to do."

"Sulking's more like it," he commented frankly, undaunted by the kid's rage. "If you really want to 'meditate', you can do it where we're going."

"Go by yourself!"

"Nah," Zeb said with a shrug. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to stay cooped up here in the _Ghost_ all day. This place is too small, and I feel like no matter where I go we're all on top of each other. I get the feeling that you're feeling about as claustrophobic as I am, right now, and I think some fresh air and open space will do us both good." Ezra stopped struggling under his arm, but Zeb's hold was still firm in spite of it. He fully expected the kid to try and worm his way out of his grip if Zeb became distracted.

Zeb snorted to himself. As if that could happen.

"Where are you going?" Ezra asked tentatively with suspicious blue eyes, and Zeb smiled down at him widely.

"Got a mission. Scans show that there's another water source somewhere towards the southern end of the planet, and they want us to investigate to see if it might serve as an outpost. I'll let you in on a secret, I went to check it out yesterday and it's something else, kid. I think the mission'll take a couple of hours. Be a nice break away from here anyway."

"I thought that we were being put off of mission rotation for the day," Ezra said slowly, though there was no denying the interest in his voice. In all the time he'd known Ezra, the kid had never been uncomfortable with a bit of rebellion against the rules, regardless if it was against the Imperials, the Rebellion, or Hera and Kanan. Particularly when he felt cornered and trapped.

"We are," Zeb agreed as he walked into the _Phantom_ and dropped Ezra beside the sensor beacons. "But the hell I'm going to stay here with everyone tiptoeing around each other." He turned his eyes to Ezra expectantly. "You coming, or not?"

Ezra's brow furrowed for a moment as he looked at the beacons, then back at the door to the _Ghost_. Then the kid got up and dusted off his knees before saying, "What are we waiting for? Let's go."

"That's what I like to hear, kid," Zeb said with an approving smile, but it fell a little when Ezra didn't return it. All the Lothal teenager did was pull down one of the passenger seats and sit, eyes resolutely looking down at the floor as he waited for Zeb to take off.

Zeb squeezed into the pilot's seat and pressed a button to let Hera know that he'd taken the _Phantom_ , while also leaving a small recording of where he and Ezra were going for when Hera got back. He had thought about telling Hera and Kanan about his plan before they left, but had decided against it. There was no reason to get them in on it. They probably wouldn't mind. He was pretty sure. Maybe.

Either way, they'd be able to reach them on the comm if they really needed him or Ezra. It would be fine.

Flying had never been something Zeb relished. He could do it, and he wasn't _terrible_ at it, but it was a well-known fact amongst the crew that if flying was required, everyone else would be tapped in line before him, including Chopper but excepting Ezra. He was a fighter, not a pilot, and he was happy to let the others take the responsibility. But this was a short flight, and an easy one, and he was certain that there would be no problems. Besides the Ashla-awful krykna, there wasn't anything that posed a real threat, especially while in the air.

Didn't mean that he didn't grimace as, when the _Phantom_ detached itself, it screeched a little as it scraped along the hull of the _Ghost_. Hera would have his head, if she ever found out.

"Hera's going to kill you," Ezra commented, and Zeb just lifted a large purple hand to wave him off.

"Only if she finds out. You going to tell her?"

"It would ensure that she murders only you and not me," he replied back pointedly, and Zeb looked over his shoulder with narrowed eyes, a quiet promise that if the kid did such a thing, he'd regret it.

The rest of the flight went smoothly, after he plugged in the coordinates and alerted the fleet of his departure, and the sweltering air of Atollon seemed to part before the _Phantom_. He set it to a gentle cruise. The Lasat wasn't in any real hurry to get to where they were going. At this rate, they'd be there within the hour, but for now he didn't see the rush. It was a relief just to get off the base for a bit, and every moment he could milk was a moment longer they didn't have to be confined.

Though, given the kid's attitude, it was starting to feel like they'd never left the _Ghost_ at all. Worse even, given the _Phantom's_ diminutive size.

Zeb kept waiting for Ezra to say something, to break the silence, but he was a little relieved when the kid resolutely kept his head down as if in concentration. Maybe he was meditating? There was a frown on his face though, and he knew that that couldn't mean anything good. But if there was anything that Zeb had learned in his life, it was never to start hard conversations in the middle of travel, especially if he was in control of the spacecraft or speeder. Those situations never ended well for him. Whatever it was that was eating the kid, it could wait until they got to where they were going. And hell, it might even wait longer than that, if the kid decided that he didn't want to say anything. Which was fine. Zeb didn't know what he'd say if Ezra _did_ decide he wanted to talk anyway.

It still made him uneasy, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. The kid was in some dark mood, and all he could do was hope that this little getaway would help.

The site came into view and Zeb smiled as he saw the large canyon before them, huge and ominous in the desert landscape. He quickly spotted the entrance into the canyon that he'd found yesterday, and he called over his shoulder, "We're here, kid. You're going to want to see this."

He didn't know if Ezra had heard him, or if he cared, but after a moment Ezra's head appeared beside him as he scrutinized the area.

"Where are we?" Ezra asked curiously, and as Zeb began carefully guiding the _Phantom_ closer to a fissure big enough for the craft to slip through, he gestured to the navigation panel.

"Huge canyon. Doesn't have a name, as far as I know, but that's where we're going."

"Thanks. That was helpful," Ezra replied sarcastically and Zeb smiled in response, shrugging. "Hard to believe that there's water in there."

"No kidding. But there's water there. I've seen it."

Ezra remained next to Zeb the rest of the way, watching curiously as Zeb entered the fissure, turned on the lights, and slowly maneuvered the _Phantom_ within the canyon. There was more than enough room for it, but once again, Zeb wasn't the most dexterous of fliers and he was going to take it nice and easy, rather than risk more of Hera's wrath. Once he saw the spot he was aiming for, he carefully let the small ship down. They both grimaced at the landing as the _Phantom_ came down a little harder than intended, and with a jolt that Zeb was intent on ignoring.

"Smooth."

"Shut it," Zeb said with a scowl as he pushed himself out of the pilot's seat. "Be ready when we get out. I didn't get the chance to check for threats yesterday. It's another reason we're here; not only to check the water, but to secure the location if the water is drinkable."

"So I'm backup, huh? What's wrong, Zeb? Couldn't do it on your own?" There was a soft chuckle that accompanied the statement, and Zeb ran with Ezra's teasing despite the fact it was aimed at him.

"And end up like Rex? I'm not stupid. I'd rather have you watching my back if we come up against any more of those spiders."

What little humor Ezra had seemed to deflate out of him, and instead the kid looked down and turned away, already heading for the exit hatch. The Lasat's eyes narrowed in concern as he reviewed what he'd said that had tipped the kid over. If he had to guess, given everything that happened on Malachor, he suspected he knew what it was he'd said that had bothered Ezra.

He looked at the Padawan carefully as he followed after. Doubt. So much doubt was in Ezra's body language, and it was clear to Zeb that Ezra was worried that he would let him down.

Zeb didn't have to imagine too hard to guess why that might be.

The Lasat frowned, his instincts pulling at him again, but he pushed them from his mind for now. They had a job they needed to do first. Maybe after he would bring it up. Maybe. If the opportunity arose. But right now the kid needed something distracting to do, and that was something Zeb could easily provide. But he'd keep a sharp eye on him, just in case.

They both cautiously exited the _Phantom_ , and it became readily apparent that water was nearby. It was slightly humid in the darkened and semi-enclosed space, cooler but not by much, and the silence of the desert was broken by the distinctive sound of trickling water.

"Come on. This way," Zeb said as he began walking towards and around the corner that would lead to the pool, though he was ready to pull his bo-rifle from his back should he need it. Ezra followed after not far behind, careful, but clearly curious.

Once Ezra cleared the corner, Zeb was pleased to hear a small, surprised gasp from behind him, and they both looked at the large pool of water before them with small waterfalls trickling over the huge stones. Light from above streamed in dusty streaks to provide just the right amount of light to the cavernous area, and as it struck the water it almost seemed to make the canyon around sparkle. It was more or less a dead end, with the exception of the water flowing from the rocks, and the pool sat in the back, surrounded by the tall stone walls. Tactically, it was an easily defensible position. Aesthetically, it was likely the most beautiful thing on the planet.

Zeb wasn't one to wax poetic, but he had to admit that this place had a certain type of beauty and charm he could appreciate.

Slowly Ezra moved forward, passing him to make his way to the pool. A dokma scuttled out of the kid's way as he neared, and Ezra dropped to a knee to look into the incredibly clear water.

"It looks so clear."

"Don't drink it yet," grunted the Lasat as he moved next to the teenager before tossing him a device the fleet had ensured would be able to analyze the components of the water to determine if it was potable. "Check it. I'll keep watch for any nasties that might be around."

As Ezra did as he was asked, Zeb kept a close eye on the surrounding area, looking deep into the darkness, his sharp ears pricked for the eerie and uncomfortable chittering of the krykna. But there was nothing, and after a moment Ezra's voice broke through the pool's tranquility.

"Water's clean," he said, and Zeb turned to watch as the kid dipped his hands into the pool to retrieve a handful of the water before bringing it to his lips to drink.

"How's it?"

"Good," he admitted as he wiped his hands on his pants to dry them. "Tastes a little like the rocks and the sand, but still cool and refreshing. I think the fleet'll be happy with the find." Ezra slowly stood up and took another look around, tentative and appraising, and after a moment he said softly, "This … this is nice."

"I know. A real paradise here in the middle of nowhere," Zeb agreed as he watched the small waterfalls flow gently over the rocks and down into the glittering pool below. When he'd first seen it yesterday, he hadn't believed his eyes that something like this could exist on this desolate planet. He hadn't wanted to leave, but he'd been alone and he hadn't had any sensor beacons to ward off the krykna. After the fiasco that had erupted while rescuing Rex, he didn't really want to be caught out in the middle of this desert without one. "Come on. Let's check this place over for krykna and whatever else might be lurking before we set the beacons. I don't really want them trapped inside the barrier with us."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Ezra said with a stoic nod, drawing a blaster from his hip, one that Zeb was sure was Sabine's. But he kept his mouth shut about it and his opinions to himself. They had a job to do and a blaster was welcome. The sooner they cleared the area, the sooner they could set up the beacons and the sooner they could relax in peace. He was looking forward to that. Ashla, he was looking forward to that.

Zeb was practically ecstatic when all they found as they made their way carefully about the pool were several dokma, which lingered around the edges of the pool, and a single convor, which took off into the desert sky as he neared. Within an hour they'd set up the sensor beacons in a small protective fence that mirrored the one around the fleet. After that it was just a matter of setting up a small tent and calibrating a portable comm system, and the pool was starting to look like the beginnings of a tiny outpost.

"What now?" Ezra asked once they were done with the setup. He watched Zeb gather up the small box he'd kept separate, and the Lasat began walking back to the large rocks beside the pool. Once Zeb had found a nice, comfortable spot, he let himself drop down and recline on a flattish boulder, crossing his legs as he reached into the box for the lunch he'd set aside earlier for the both of them.

"Take a load off. I'm not planning on going back yet, and I'm not ready to share this place with anyone else. Let's just enjoy the break from everyone while we can." He lifted the box towards Ezra in offering. "Here, I brought lunch."

Zeb half expected Ezra to suggest that they check in with the fleet just in case, or with Hera to let them know that they'd finished their mission and that they were fine. But instead Ezra just climbed up next to him to take the box, settling himself a small distance beside the Lasat, and quietly began to eat. Lazily Zeb reached down to scoop up a handful of water from the pool, and was pleased to find the kid was right about it being cool. As he drank that handful, he also realized that the kid had also been right about the taste. It tasted strongly of mineral, but it wasn't off-putting. Not exactly what he wanted in the taste of water, but not bad.

The sound of the water over the rocks in the silence was relaxing, and once Zeb had finished his lunch, he rested his arms behind his head and reclined as far back as he could, closing his eyes to enjoy the moment. This had been a good idea. Away from the _Ghost_ and the others, even if he was with this moody Lothal teenager, it was still like a breath of fresh air to him, and that was enough to ignore the world for a while. This was nice. A well-deserved vacation, for both of them.

That was, until Ezra said softly, "So are you going to say it?"

Confusion flitted through Zeb as he peeked an eye over at the kid who, at some point, had drawn his knees up and circled his arms around them, looking intently into the empty space of the cavern before them.

"Say what?"

"To say something about yesterday, or about my behavior. I know that you've been wanting too. I could feel it in the Force all the way here."

Oh. That. Sometimes he forgot that Kanan and Ezra could sense emotions like that through the Force.

"Listen, kid," Zeb said with a sigh as he looked at Ezra, letting his fatigue and gruff concern show through a bit since they were alone out here, and away from the others. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Good, because I _don't_ want to talk about it," Ezra said firmly with an angry frown as his arms tightened around his knees, his body language stressed. "So just don't."

"Okay," the Lasat replied cautiously. "I won't."

The silence was tense after the outburst, and Zeb didn't know what he should do or say, if he should do or say anything. Zeb tried to keep his emotions in line and ignore them, but there was no denying the deep concern he felt towards Ezra. The kid's body language alone made him think of a nexu he'd seen once, agitated and ready to kill, and Zeb didn't think there was any calming Ezra. Should he, though? What should he do if he should? Should he do what Hera would do? What _would_ Hera do —

"Will you _stop_?" exclaimed Ezra in abrupt anger as he rounded his blue eyes fiercely on the Lasat. "Just _stop_! I can't take it anymore!"

"Stop what?" questioned Zeb defensively. He hadn't been doing anything. He'd been trying to _not_ do anything!

"Stop _feeling_ so concerned!" Ezra yelled, his voice echoing loudly off the walls. "I can feel it everywhere, even when I'm _not_ focusing on the Force. It's driving me insane!"

The kid was _still_ feeling his emotions? Now that was just embarrassing, and he couldn't help but glare at the kid with his green eyes narrowed.

"Well, how am I supposed to stop that?" Zeb asked incredulously as he pushed himself to sit up. "You're the one that's eavesdropping on my emotions, and I can't help that I _am_ concerned about you!"

"Well stop! You don't need to be concerned about me," the kid bit back angrily. "I'm fine! I came back with hardly a scratch on me. If you need to be concerned about someone, be concerned about Kanan."

"You should know through the Force, then, that I _am_ concerned about Kanan!" Zeb shot back, his gravelly voice almost a harsh growl. "But right now I'm more concerned about you! Hera's got Kanan covered, but you're like a raw nerve that's about to explode. I get it, you need your space after everything that happened, I really do, but this isn't normal for you."

"Nothing's different, Zeb. I'm fine!"

"Then why are you shouting?"

"Why are _you_ shouting?"

"Because you are!" Zeb could feel his heartbeat rise, but conflict was nothing new or difficult for him, and a part of him relished the fact that the boy was shouting instead of crying. He knew how to handle shouting, but crying was something else. Anger, he knew. This, he felt he could handle.

Ezra all but screeched in frustration. "This is ridiculous! Everything about you is screaming at me and making everything worse!" With a shove of his hands, the kid began to push himself up. "Stay here. I'm taking a walk." Before the kid could get further than that, Zeb's hand shot out and yanked Ezra back down.

The Lasat narrowed his eyes dangerously at the boy. "So sorry if I offend you, but I'm not letting you go off on your own," he growled, and the warm air in the cavern seemed to turn cool in response. "I can guess what's eating at you kid, but you have to know that no one blames you for what happened on Malachor —"

"Do you even get it, Zeb? Everything that happened on Malachor was my fault!" Ezra's shout of rage cracked out into the air of the pool, echoed, and vanished as if it had never been there at all, silencing the Lasat. "It was me that Master Yoda told to go to Malachor. It was me that went into that Sith temple with Maul. It was me that listened to him as if I knew what I was doing. It was me that listened to Maul _again_ and left Kanan behind!" Zeb saw the raw pain sitting just behind the boy's blue eyes as Ezra finally shouted, "If I hadn't left, if I hadn't trusted Maul, then maybe I would have been there to stop him from hurting Kanan!"

"You can't blame yourself for that," Zeb said with a frown. "Even though you listened to Maul, Kanan wasn't alone. Ahsoka was there too, and if neither Kanan or Ahsoka could have stopped what happened, what difference would it have made if you'd been there too? The way I see it, even if you _had_ been there, and Kanan had still lost his eyes, you'd still be blaming yourself for what happened. No one's blaming you, Ezra."

"But I should have been there, Zeb!" Ezra continued on, as if he hadn't heard Zeb at all. "I should have known better. Kanan's my Master and I'm his Padawan! We're supposed to have each other's backs, and I wasn't there!" Tears lined Ezra's eyes as anguish flared bright and readable across his face, and Zeb's heart sank for the boy. "Zeb, he's always there for me! Why is it that every time he needs me to be there for him, I'm not?"

It was as if something within Ezra had broken down and the boy sat curled into an even tighter ball as he pressed his head over and over into his knees, like he was trying to smash his insecurities and his guilt out of his mind. Sobs filled the air, and Zeb sighed, more unsure than ever about what he should do now. Really, this was Hera's thing. Lasat's like him just weren't good at the whole … comfort thing. And he was a warrior on top of that. He wasn't supposed to do these _feeling_ things.

But it was more than clear that if he didn't do these _feeling_ things, and find a way to connect with Ezra now while he was suffering, the kid might just get it in his head that everything he was thinking was true. He might start believing the lies he was telling himself, and Zeb … he couldn't let that happen.

He knew what that was like, after all. His guilt over Lasan was still a deep bruise on his soul, and he couldn't let Ezra do that to himself. He couldn't.

Sighing again, he followed his instincts and shifted closer to the boy, and unsure of what he was going to do next, he surprised himself by gently reaching out to place his huge hand over Ezra's dark head, resting it there carefully as if he might break the teenager into a thousand shards of glass. Ezra gave a full-body flinch at the touch, but Zeb took it as a good sign that the kid hadn't knocked his hand away, or vented his anger at him again. He just continued to sob and fall apart, and awkwardly Zeb stroked Ezra's back as his own mother once had, long ago when Zeb was still a soft-hearted child. Zeb remembered how soothing that had been for him, at the time, and he hoped that the kid might find it as soothing as well.

"Why, Zeb?" Ezra asked in a wrecked voice as he spoke into the safe circle of his arms, hiding his face and his tears. "Why do I keep failing? Why do I keep letting everyone down?" His voice shook hard, and Zeb heard the kid struggle to swallow back a lose sob. "I try so hard, and what good is it doing? It's like I'm never good enough!"

The pain in Ezra's voice shook Zeb with its raw intensity, and he remembered similar guilt filling his own head after the fall of Lasan, when he'd woken up covered in rubble to see everything he'd know destroyed in the wake of the Empire. Zeb may not know for sure if Ezra was responsible for everything that happened on Malachor, but the kid clearly thought he was, and Zeb knew from personal experience how hard it was to combat such a strong belief. The most he could do right now was empathize, and provide support and advice.

But what could he possibly say? What would break through strong enough for Ezra to listen? Ezra was just like he had been after the fall of Lasan, but if that was the case, then maybe there was a way to reach him. What would Zeb have told his younger self that terrible day, now that he had the wisdom of time to reflect upon everything that had happened? Now that he'd lived with the guilt and the pain?

Maybe … maybe that was the way? He hoped it was, because it was all he had and he took another quiet moment to collect his thoughts before he began.

"I wish I could give you a more satisfying answer besides, 'you're still young' and 'you're still learning' and 'there's only so much one person can do'," Zeb finally sighed slowly as his heart ached at the memories of Lasan, and for Ezra. "More than anyone, I wish I could give you a satisfying answer … but the truth is, I don't know if I can."

A hard, dry sob pounded through the teenager, and Zeb frowned as he stroked a hand soothingly down Ezra's back again.

"Lasan … I still carry the guilt of what happened to Lasan and to my people. I think about it every day, even now that we found Lira San. A lot of Lasat's died on my watch. They were my people, and like I told you, it was my duty to protect them, and I failed." He paused for a long moment, his throat tightening a little as he opened himself up, but he swallowed past it. "In my head, I know that I was one Lasat against the Empire, trying to protect an entire civilization, and in my head, I know that that's a lot to expect of anyone. But the heart believes what it wants. It clings to the guilt, and it clings to the pain like a bloody reminder of every failure you've ever committed in your life."

"How do you deal with it?" asked Ezra in a wrecked voice. "How do you handle all of that guilt?"

"Truth is, I don't think I ever did. Not well, anyway," Zeb admitted quietly as he looked down into the depths of the clear pool of water, still and calm in a way he knew neither of them were. "For a long time I just pushed it to the back of my mind, and every time I started to feel it again, I'd go and get myself into a fight with the Imperials. It felt like it helped, at the time, but … well, the guilt was always still there." His voice tapered off for a moment, and idly he flicked a small pebble into the pool below, watching the water ripple.

"It still hurts," Zeb admitted once he'd found his voice again, "and I'm still angry, but … I think I'm beginning to understand it a little more, now that time has passed and I've become a part of the crew, helping the Rebellion. I've had to come to terms with my own limitations. I'm not a God, and I don't have the powers of a God, even if I wish I did. I did everything I could on Lasan, and it just … wasn't enough." He paused before quietly adding, "Perhaps that was just how it was supposed to be. The will of the Force. Ashla."

"But I have the Force, Zeb," Ezra said softly in response. "The Force is supposed to guide me and make me strong. It's supposed to help me. I should have been able to sense that something was wrong. I should have foreseen that something bad would happen to Kanan. The Force should have warned me. I should have _known_."

"In the same way I should have known that Lasan was about to be attacked and destroyed before it happened?" Zeb asked quietly. "That's not fair, kid, and you know it. We have all been watching you and Kanan as he's trained you in the ways of the Force, and we all know that it isn't some mechanical thing, like Chopper. It does what it wants and surprises you both. And you're still new to it. How could you expect to control all the energy of the galaxy? How could you make it be predictable? Kanan can't even do it," Zeb said slowly. "He's used it longer than you have, kid. If he and Ahsoka couldn't have sensed what was coming with the skill they have, I'm not sure it could have been sensed or stopped."

Ezra didn't say anything in response, just clung to his legs resolutely, and Zeb sighed. Karabast, he was botching this. He just knew it. The boy still hadn't made any indication that he understood what Zeb was trying to say and Zeb ran a hand over his bald head in frustration. He _really_ wasn't good at this. He was probably making this so much worse. It felt like he was digging himself into a hole, deeper and deeper, and with a sigh, he decided that he just needed to say what he meant. Bottom line up front. No holds barred.

The Lasat looked up at the weak beams of light as they slipped through the rocks above, weak and gentle. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that maybe we expect too much of ourselves." Ezra chuckled darkly and Zeb frowned at him. "I know. Once again, unsatisfying. But you and I are alike in that way, kid. We get it in our heads that we alone have the responsibility to fix and protect everything, and we believe that we're greater than the problems we face. That we'll make it." The air embraced his words as they rolled low and honest from his lips, and Zeb sighed heavily before looking back at Ezra.

"But the truth is, Ezra, that sometimes we fail. It happens, and it hurts. No one prepares us for that. No one wants to admit that they're about to enter a galaxy where it's impossible to make it through without failing, and sometimes failing _badly_. But we do anyway because we think we can beat the odds. But we're not perfect and luck isn't always on our side, and Lasan, Human, Twi'lek, or Jedi, we can't succeed at everything, no matter how hard we try. But we can learn from those failures. We can use them and become stronger for them. Endeavor to make sure that we do better next time." Zeb paused for a moment before he picked up again more softly. "That's what I do, anyway. That's how I handle the guilt now. I do what I can, to the best of my ability, and acknowledge that sometimes things happen that are outside of my control. It's hard to accept and even harder to believe, but I think it's important or we destroy ourselves from the inside out, and I _know_ what that's like. And I don't want that to happen to you too, kid."

Ezra still hadn't said anything, but there was something in his body language that was unwinding a bit in the wake of Zeb's words. It wasn't perfect, and he knew the kid was still hurting bad and was likely still holding onto his guilt, but Zeb thought it was a success that the kid had admitted his fears and his faults at all. A younger Zeb never would have. Ezra may have a hard time coming to terms with what happened on Malachor, but at least he hadn't held it in, like Zeb had for years.

One thing was for sure though. The dark feeling that had felt so heavy hanging on Ezra didn't seem quite so dark or heavy right now.

"Thanks for telling me about Lasan, Zeb," Ezra finally said, looking up with tired eyes for the first time. The kid looked bad, and his eyes were red-rimmed from the crying, but they didn't hold the same agitated, tense anger as they had. "I know that was hard. Kanan would be proud. You sounded like a Jedi."

Zeb shrugged it off, embarrassed. "Yeah, well, I just wanted you to know that I know what it feels like, and that I'm not just making things up. I care about you kid, and I don't want you to live with the guilt like I have. It eats you up, slowly, and it's … it's something I wished I'd never let grow."

Ezra nodded and the quiet settled back into the cavern again, though this time it wasn't as tense or uncomfortable. There was a distinct feel of ache and pain in the air, it was true, but it was a strange sort of shared ache, and in that way it was companionable, oddly enough.

"You still planning on going on that walk?" Zeb asked after a moment, glancing over with tired green eyes, and he was satisfied when Ezra slowly shook his head.

"No," he said quietly. Then he surprised Zeb by asking, "Can we stay here for a while?" His voice nor his body language seemed as pent up or tense, and Zeb sensed that the thoughts the kid had been brewing all day had settled, for the time being. "I … don't want to go back anytime soon. Not yet anyway."

Zeb looked at Ezra for a moment before he let himself recline back again, shutting his eyes.

"I don't see why not. I don't think they'll be expecting us for a couple hours yet," Zeb breathed into the peaceful air, peeking an eye open to look at Ezra. "Besides, that'll give me more than enough time for a nap. And given how much you were tossing about last night, you could probably use one too."

Ezra didn't say anything at the comment, but after a moment he did lay down too, though he didn't close his eyes. The kid just stared up at the dancing lights on the ceiling of the cavern as the desert light from outside reflected the water. Zeb knew better than to think that the kid would _actually_ listen to him and get some sleep while he could. Ezra was still deep in this thoughts and his doubts, and it was obvious enough that even a breakdown like he'd just had wasn't going to cure everything. It never had, in Zeb's experience. But he knew it did help, some, and some was better than none. It was something that the kid could work with, and that was a good thing. A start at least.

"Thanks, Zeb." Ezra's voice was soft in the air, hardly disturbing the peace of the area, quiet and contemplative.

Zeb reached over and ruffled Ezra's dark hair gently, allowing some of his gruff affection for the kid to show through for a very brief moment. "Anytime, kid. And I mean that. Anytime."


	6. Hide and Seek

**Summary:** Kanan was at a loss. Why was Chopper stealing his walking stick over and over again like an awful game of hide and seek? This wasn't a game! He needed it, but no matter how hard Kanan fought to keep it, Chopper kept on finding ways to squirrel it away.

* * *

 **Hide and Seek**

Kanan sighed heavily, attempting to ignore the strain and ache that had been steadily growing in his mind as the afternoon had progressed. Despite Hera's insistence on taking some time to rest and heal, Kanan couldn't bring himself to remain so idle, particularly when trapped in his blinded body. He figured that a good compromise would be an afternoon spent in careful meditation where he could work on reestablishing his connection to the Force, and developing his Force sense. It would require him to remain stationary and allow his body to mend while he kept his mind clear and open to the Force. It had seemed like a very untaxing compromise. Generally, he found meditation to be soothing and opening, a peaceful activity of the mind. This would be no different, particularly given that he had the _Ghost_ mostly to himself.

He found that he was mistaken in that assumption.

The first hour of meditation after lunch had been exactly as he'd expected. Relaxing. Simply connecting to the Force was something that was deeply relieving, and not having it swell and roil around him chaotically as it had been made him feel as if the world had settled and he was at peace. If not for the pointed throb across his eyes, or the heavy ache in his muscles, he might have imagined that nothing of Malachor had occurred.

But he'd just _had_ to get ambitious. Kanan never was one to sit still for too long, especially when he wanted to train or practice a skill. He hadn't been at all surprised when he'd started probing the Force, intent on building up his Force sense. Frankly, the list of reason's driving him to improve were growing and he wanted to do away with the list entirely, and as soon as possible.

After lunch, AP-5 had arrived with Chopper bearing the walking stick the old doctor had promised him last night, and he'd accepted it as humbly and willingly as he could. He couldn't rely on everyone else to lead him like an invalid. He needed to figure out how to at least move about on his own, and given that Hera and Sabine both had errands they needed to accomplish on the fleet ship that would hold them through until the evening, he figured he might as well get started on it.

Chopper had insisted that in the absence of Hera and Sabine, he'd be more than willing to lead Kanan back to the _Ghost_ himself, but the Jedi had insisted on making it back with as little aid as possible. Until his connection to the Force was stronger and he could use his Force sense without thinking about it and without effort, he needed to learn how to do this so that he could relieve them of some of his burden and become more self-sufficient.

Chopper didn't appear to agree, and the way back to the _Ghost_ had been difficult because of it. The entire way, Chopper had been in tow as Kanan worked out the mechanics of the walking stick, allowing the built in sensor to alert him when he was coming too close to any given object. It was a disconcerting and unnerving method of movement, after a lifetime navigating easily on his own, and he quickly developed a healthy respect for the blind he'd seen using these navigation tools with such confidence and ease. He felt as if he was going to fall to the ground, or hit something in spite of the stick and crash into it, and the experience was made that much worse by Chopper. The astromech insisted on ramming into Kanan's legs whenever he felt Kanan was going even the slightest bit off track on the way to the _Ghost_. Kanan realized that if _anything_ was going to make him fall, it would be Chopper, but the astromech had seemed undaunted and kept on beating his legs no matter how often Kanan barked at him to stop. Kanan's legs felt bruised from the abuse, and it gave him pressing motivation to hone his Force sense to use.

The sooner he didn't have to rely on the walking stick, and the sooner he could make Chopper stop assaulting him, the better.

Meditating to improve his Force sense wasn't like a general meditation to open himself up to the Force. Well, it was, but because Force sense was never something he specialized or trained in extensively when he was still a Jedi at the Temple, it was like a mental muscle he'd rarely used which had atrophied over the last fifteen years he'd been Kanan Jarrus. It was true that he had to open himself to the Force, and that he had to focus. None of that was different. But the object of focus was different, and that was what strained his mind considerably. Instead of focusing on some abstract quality or idea found in the Force, he was focusing on himself and his bodily senses, and it quickly began to feel like a terrible balancing act.

To 'see' as he had on Malachor, he not only used his hearing, he'd used his entire body to feel and sense Maul. Upon reflection, he realized he'd even smelled the old Sith - as uncomfortable as that had been. All of his senses had worked together in perfect harmony to give Kanan a view of reality without the aid of his eyes, and he had 'seen' clearly. He still wasn't sure how he'd done it but as the meditation progressed, he'd developed a feel for it. Through awkward trial and error, he used the Force to unify the senses of his body to feel the world and 'see', while at the same time trying hard not to force the matter as he had the previous night in the Medical Bay. He was slow and agonizingly careful about it, but he acknowledged that there was a layer of eagerness there that kept him working at it even when it was long past time for him to take a break and mentally recover.

But his perseverance had paid off, and in spite of the growing headache planted in the center of his mind from the dedicated focus and stress, he was doing it. He was Force sensing, if only in the vaguest way possible. Without the use of his eyes, he could make out the shape of his cabin around him through the interaction of the Force and his body. It didn't matter to him that it felt only faintly defined, like the lightest of lead drawings, hardly a sketch, but it was there. He'd done it. And with more practice he knew the world would begin to gain more definition until he'd be able to really 'see' again, and perhaps see better than he ever had in his life.

Right now, however, he'd reached his limit. His mind felt sluggish and ached with growing sharpness, and he finally admitted to himself that he'd earned a break. A rest. All he could think about was laying down for a while and letting his mind recover. There would be more time for practice later, but it would do him no good to burn himself out now. Rest would do him good.

At the thought of rest he quietly yearned for Hera.

He wouldn't tell a soul, but Hera ... her presence last night when he fell asleep, and then when he woke up, had been something profound and important to him. A small part of him knew that no matter how tired he was, he was unlikely to fall asleep without her, at least not for a while. He might rest, but without her he knew he'd be hard pressed to drop off to sleep, especially here in his cabin, surrounded by all of him and very little of her.

Just as Kanan was pulling himself back in from the meditation, he became aware of the sound of Chopper's wheels moving down the hall, pausing and shifting right outside before there was a series of sharp, metal thuds on his cabin door. Kanan was surprised. Usually Chopper didn't care to barge in on anyone, except Hera and Sabine, and this politeness was out of character, even if it was telling. The droid was being as respectful as he could be, mindful of Kanan's loss.

Kanan shifted out of the kneeling posture of meditation to a more forgiving cross-legged position, sighing with relief as he let his back finally rest against the wall. Carefully he held onto the Force sense, and would for as long as he could. He needed to practice accessing it and using it while not in strict meditation. He was pleased when the Forces sense held.

"Come in Chopper," Kanan called, and the door to his cabin immediately hissed open and the astromech rolled slowly inside. Kanan almost smiled as he watched Chopper move. He was satisfied that not only was his sense holding, but that it was working when focused on a moving target too. "What is it?"

Kanan waited for the blip and warble of craggy binary, unsure if he should expect the somewhat solemn disposition the droid had been displaying since they'd left Malachor, or the feisty attitude the droid was infamous for. But all that met Kanan was silence as Chopper sat there and watched him, shifting now and then very minutely, as if the droid was thinking, or looking for something.

Under normal circumstances that was never a good sign. But with the way Chopper had been acting recently, Kanan had no idea how he should interpret the behavior.

"Chopper?"

Slowly the droid began to move forward, and Kanan warily tracked him until Chopper was close enough that the Jedi could smell the oil he used to keep his metal body in working order.

If Kanan had eyelids, he would have blinked at the sudden speed with which Chopper dashed forward as he swung one of his small metal arms down to grab at the floor beside Kanan, and all but flew out of the cabin the next instant. The door hissed shut behind him as the sound of his wheels carried the droid away. Through the Force Kanan curiously followed the astromech as he went to the cockpit and threw something small and narrow onto one of the seats, his top swinging around in triumph. Kanan could all but hear the distinctive 'whoop-whoop!' in the back of his mind.

What the —?

Kanan moved to stand and investigate this strange behavior, his hand reaching out mindlessly when I dawned on him what Chopper had done. The walking stick. He'd stolen Kanan's walking stick. Whenever it wasn't in use, it was collapsible and small and he still wasn't quite used to its presence. That was why its theft hadn't been obvious to him. For some reason Chopper had taken it.

"Chopper!" Kanan called out into the empty halls of the _Ghost_ as he burst from his room, and he was surprised when the droid did come back in a chipper mood. If Kanan could have glared, he would have. "Bring back the stick, Chopper. I need it."

Chopper made sounds in binary as he shook the top half of his body back and forth in what was definitely a shake of the head. The binary came through nice and clear, and Kanan frowned. Apparently Chopper was of the opinion that Kanan didn't require the metal stick to navigate. And so he'd disposed of it.

"You haven't gotten rid of it, Chop. I know where it is."

Mind focused, he began walking towards the cockpit. He kept a hand on the wall just in case his Force sense gave out if his concentration slipped, however. Chopper followed behind, strangely quiet as Kanan made his way, and when it became obviously clear that Kanan knew exactly where his walking stick was, Chopper plowed into him, knocking him against the wall to swing around the seat where he'd hidden the stick. He snatched it up again and dashed away on his wheel, warbling loudly in binary which was almost a wail and completely incomprehensible.

"Chopper, come back here!" Kanan dashed to follow the droid before he got away, but the sudden motion left the burn wound over his eyes throbbing and sent a bolt of pain searing through his mind, cracking his connection to the Force. Immediately his senses dulled and normalized and his hand shot out for the wall again.

The urge to touch and sooth his aching face was overwhelming, but he couldn't risk infecting the bacta bandage. Instead he dug his hand into the side of his hair and clenched a handful, focusing on his breath in an attempt to let the urge pass. Unable to stop himself, he ran his hand through his hair again, forcing it free of the band holding it back. The long, smooth tendrils fell around his neck and shoulders and face, tickling his nose. Damn it. Kasmir would've laughed at him for still running his hand through his hair, even after fifteen years. But it was oddly comforting and distracting, and who cared if he gave into it right now? He didn't give in often.

Once the pain had passed, Kanan sighed and dropped his hand, focusing on reestablishing his connection to the Force. Slowly the connection was made and he could 'see' again, but it was weaker than it had been and it made his head pound harder. He knew that as this went on longer and longer, the harder it would become to maintain the Force sense. But for now he could, and with focus he began searching for Chopper again, and found him throwing the stick into the rear gunning station.

"I still know where you put it, Chopper!" he called as he began heading in that direction, and once the droid caught sight of him clearly heading towards the new hiding place, Chopper had the stick again and was darting away once more. Kanan let his head tip back towards the ceiling as he gave a great, exasperated sigh.

It appeared that Chopper was in the mood to play hide and seek with his walking stick.

Great. Just great. If he'd been feeling better, if his mind, face, and his body didn't throb and ache terribly then this wouldn't have been a problem, but his focus was strained and his body throbbed and pulsed with fatigue and weakness and hurt. He just wasn't up to this right now, and all he wanted was to get his walking stick back, go to his cabin, and rest his mind without torment.

And instead, he was playing games with a mad droid.

As much as Kanan wished he could say that the games didn't last all that long, he'd be lying. For the better part of an hour, he chased Chopper around the _Ghost_ , risking life and limb to get the damn stick back. Simple hiding places soon became less frequent, and Chopper started getting crafty. Distractions that disrupted Kanan's concentration gave Chopper the time needed to squirrel away the walking stick again and again.

But he found it. He always did, but the rounds were getting harder and harder the longer they went. The hiding places were higher and more dangerous, spaces in the _Ghost_ even Ezra wouldn't have been able to fit in. Once he'd even found it in the refresher tank before Chopper had taken it once more.

After those tactics stopped working, Chopper upped his game again in desperation and resorted to, at one point, throwing the stick out into the Atollon desert — Chopper clearly hoped that Kanan would never find it out amongst the sand and rocks — and when that hadn't worked, had found one of Sabine's explosives and had threatened to blow the stick up.

Kanan was floored by the lengths Chopper was willing to go in this mad drive to hide the walking stick from him; this was extreme, even by Chopper's standards! It was only due to quick thinking on his part that he'd managed to send the explosive flying to safety before Chopper had the chance to detonate it, much to the droid's chagrin. Threats and curses had been made after that one. Kanan was glad that the rest of the crew was far and gone, and hadn't been around to hear such filthy language from the Jedi Knight.

Now, though, Kanan had Chopper trapped in the _Ghost's_ storage bay, and there would be no way for the astromech to get past him this time. He was getting that damn stick, and when he did he would be hard pressed not to whack the droid with it for the monstrous headache he'd created. This was it. Kanan was done playing.

"Enough games, Chopper," Kanan said firmly, hands ready in case the droid tried to make a break for it. His hold on the Force was feeble at best and he wouldn't call what he was using now 'Force sense'. He couldn't see specifically, but he had heightened instincts, and for this it was enough. He knew where Chopper was and what he was doing, and he was ending this. "Give it here."

The droid chittered in binary that Kanan didn't require the stick and that Chopper was doing him a favor. He'd been saying much the same thing for the last half hour, and no matter how many times Kanan pointed out — or embarrassed himself by proving it — that he was blind, Chopper insisted that Kanan wasn't because he could utilize the Force, or could ask for assistance in the meantime, and that he didn't require a walking stick at all. Kanan could ask Chopper for help if he needed it, after all he was vastly superior to such a mindless object. The stick wasn't necessary, so Kanan shouldn't become accustomed to it.

"You know that's not true, Chop!" Kanan yelled angrily, losing his cool and losing his connection to the Force at the same time, and he cursed before fighting to reestablish as quickly as he could again. It was grueling and painful, and his head burned horribly for it. But that had been all the time Chopper needed to attempt an escape. His boosters ignited and he flew easily to the ceiling, waving the stick triumphantly.

No. Kanan had enough. Not this time.

Lifting a hand, he used the Force to yank the walking stick from the droid's grasp, and Chopper warbled loudly in surprise and confusion, shifting to and fro in the air as they now played tug of war. With a sudden surge of confidence, Kanan felt Chopper's hold on the stick slip, and with what little concentration he could scrounge up, he tossed it as far away from the astromech as he could. The stick flew into the air before clattering down the hall.

Kanan smirked as he burst into motion and Chopper let out a mechanical yell as he tried to get there before the Jedi. In the midst of the scramble, Kanan paused when he heard a great thump from above, and realized he only had moments to prepare before a high tower of storage containers came crashing down on top of him, knocked over in Chopper's haste.

Heavy collisions to his shoulder and back rained down on him, throttling him chaotically as the Force slipped from his grasp, leaving him to fend for himself. Instinctively he curled, his arms going over his head to protect the sensitive wound on his face, and he resigned himself to wait for all the boxes to stop falling. They weren't deathly heavy, or filled with things that would kill him, but they were heavy and numerous enough to pin him, and he regretted letting the droid in his room earlier. This wouldn't have happened if he'd taken a break when he'd needed to to keep his mind fresh and strong, instead of pushing himself too hard.

Binary beeped frantically as Chopper landed with a loud thud, as if he'd given no care to how hard he'd come down at all, and was immediately working to unearth Kanan. Metal arms thumped and whacked and shoved the various boxes here and there before the Jedi felt a metal arm press against his hand. Chopper requested that Kanan take it so that he could be removed from the pile.

For a moment Kanan considered refusing the help, given that he was in this mess because of the droid, but instead he shoved the hot and angry emotions away as he grabbed hold and allowed the sturdy droid to tug him free. In a few moments the astromech had him out and Kanan was stumbling to his feet as Chopper lead him to a wall. Relieved, he pressed his hand to the surface in relief and listened to Chopper's binary ask if he sustained injuries, or if he required medical attention at the fleet's Medical Bay.

"No, I'm fine," Kanan said softly as he dragged a hand over the lower half of his face to center himself in his normal senses yet again. He had no real desire to see the fleet's doctor again. The worst that he'd received might have been a bruise from one of the boxes and that wasn't _nearly_ enoughto encourage a medical visit.

Chopper warbled apologetically, but Kanan sighed heavily in response when he heard the droid's head swivel and come to a stop at a spot Kanan could guess was where the walking stick had fallen. Kanan heard Chopper's gears and motors click and move, shifting ever so slightly and somehow Kanan just knew, even without the Force, what the droid was about to do.

No more. He'd let this nonsense go on long enough. Kanan needed to figure out why Chopper was up to these headache inducing antics, and so long as the droid could get away, it would keep happening. So channeling the Force again, despite the searing burn of pain, Kanan reached out and lifted Chopper off the ground. The astromech wouldn't be going anywhere now.

In response, Chopper began beeping and warbling in binary loudly, concerned by the fact that he was no longer on the ground as he should be. He frantically requested to be returned to the floor.

"No, Chop. If I put you down, you're just going to take it again, and you're going to try and hide it. I'm done playing games."

Chopper warbled, whipping his metal arms around while claiming he wouldn't. Kanan wasn't at all convinced, but to prove a point, he carefully placed the droid on the ground and waited.

He wasn't surprised that he didn't have to wait long. Chopper paused for the briefest of moments before attempting another dash for the walking stick where it still lay down the hall and, already prepared, Kanan reached for the Force and Chopper was once again in the air.

"You were saying?" Kanan asked, crossing his arms as he leveled his nonexistent gaze at the droid, and Chopper chittered sheepishly, as if laughing but uncomfortable about it.

"Enough Chopper. If you try to take it away again, I'm going to throw you out of the _Ghost_ and lock you out until the others get back." Reaching out to the Force with his other hand, he summoned the stick as if it had been his lightsaber. Once it was safely back in his hand, he pressed the button to extend it out to a proper length, and Chopper all but moaned as he did so. Kanan frowned at him as he made his way over to the astromech where he still hung in the air.

"Why did you keep trying to hide it, Chopper? Until I'm strong enough in the Force to stop needing it, well ... I need it." Chopper didn't say anything for a long moment, maintaining silence before Kanan sighed and ran a hand through his hair again, unable to stop himself now that he'd started.

"It's not like you to play needlessly cruel games. You prank, but you're never cruel for the sake of cruelty. What's going on?"

It was long coming, but the warbled binary came practically pathetic in tone, and Kanan sighed as he gently let the droid back to the ground. With a click of a button he depressed the stick enough so that he could lean against it as he crouched to Chopper's level. The droid didn't attempt to take the stick again, and felt for the first time as if he was slumped and limp, head down and apologetic.

"Chop?"

Binary bipped through the air quietly and reluctant, but honest and clear for the first time all afternoon. If Kanan had still had eyes, they would have widened in surprise.

Chopper felt guilty. He'd done all of this because he felt guilty about what happened to Kanan on Malachor.

Confusion made Kanan's hold on the stick tense. Why did Chopper feel guilty about Malachor? It made no sense. There was no reason for it. Chopper had done everything that had been asked of him perfectly. He'd been the steadiest and most dependable member of the team. There was no reason for Chopper to feel guilty.

But for some reason, he was. And Kanan needed to find out why.

"Why, Chop?" Kanan asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice as he gave the droid all of his attention. "Nothing that happened on Malachor was your fault. You did everything right. There's nothing you should feel guilty about."

The astromech gave the equivalent of a sigh before his top shifted slowly and a small metal arm gently tapped the bandage's bacta dispersal unit over Kanan's ear before he muttered in binary that this could have been something he might have been able to prevent.

Kanan's brow furrowed. How was his blindness something that might have been prevented?

"I need you to walk me through this one, Chopper. I don't understand," Kanan said slowly with a concerned frown. Silence met his request, and for a moment Kanan wondered if he was going to have to order the droid to tell him what was on his mind, but before it came to that a simple series of soft warbled binary slipped into the air, slow and clear so that Kanan understood.

Kanan had ordered Chopper to have the _Phantom_ hidden and ready for takeoff. Chopper had run an algorithm to determine where the best spots to lay in wait would be. One possibility, but a viable possibility, had been a position near to where Kanan, Ahsoka, and Maul had been located. Chopper had decided against that option because it wasn't a logical choice, given that he'd assumed Ezra had been in the vicinity, and had underestimated how much of a threat Maul would be when he'd run his calculations. He'd overestimated the groups security, and had come to the conclusion anymore help would become compromising. Because of these assumptions he'd chosen a logical alternative. If Chopper had chosen the position closest instead, he would have been within sight of Maul, and might have been able to stop Maul from attacking Kanan.

Chopper was convinced that he'd calculated poorly, and because he had he'd been in a position that prevented him from being there to aid Kanan, when he might have been able to otherwise. He felt partially to blame for Kanan's blindness because of this choice.

"Chop ..." Kanan said, speechless. "You couldn't have known that this would happen. None of us did. This isn't your fault. Your logic was sound, given what you knew." Kanan placed his hand gently on the top of Chopper's exterior and he felt the droid all but sag as it leaned forward into his touch, as if deeply bothered.

Kanan frowned down at the droid. It hadn't even occurred to him that Chopper might feel guilty about what happened on Malachor whatsoever, but maybe he should have suspected. It hadn't only been him and Ezra and Ahsoka that had gone to the Sith planet. Chopper had been there too.

"You know that you were already doing everything you could," Kanan finally breathed, wishing he could see the droid with the eyes he'd lost and would never get back.

Chopper warbled lowly. He'd been ready and waiting for them in the _Phantom_. If Chopper had been nearby, he might have been able to distract or eliminate the Sith, or at the very least prevent Kanan's blinded state.

"Or he might have deflected the shot and taken you down," Kanan argued, stroking the sorrowful droid. "This is better than having lost you instead, Chopper."

Binary filled the air quietly. Chopper didn't agree. Kanan frowned heavily when the droid made the argument that since he was a droid, he was replaceable. Expendable. It would have been worth the sacrifice. The organic members of the crew were fragile and could be permanently damaged. They weren't replaceable. He was, and being destroyed to save Kanan's eyes would have been worth it.

If Kanan still had eyes to narrow, he would have narrowed them incredulously.

"Will you shut up?" Kanan thumped the top of Chopper's metal head, forcing the droid to perk up in awareness and agitation as he warbled back readily. Kanan wasn't having any of it. "Chopper, you're not just a droid to us. You're a member of the crew, and you're family. There's no replacing you."

Undaunted, Chopper pointed out that both Kanan and Zeb had gambled and lost him to Lando Calrissian once, and that the whole crew had left him behind on Horizon Base when he'd left his post for a new strut — admittedly his fault, but they hadn't even thought to check for him until after the fact.

Kanan pursed his lips. "Lando was a mistake, and he probably cheated anyway. But we've never bet you again and we're never going to. We learned our lesson. As for Horizon Base, well come on, we had a plan and you were supposed to be there."

The droid did the equivalent of a shrug and turned a little away from Kanan, clearly unconvinced. This was such rare behavior for Chopper that Kanan was at a loss as to what to do or say. How was he supposed to convince the droid that he had worth when he so obviously did? That he was a valued and begrudgingly loved member of the crew, and that his loss would be devastating to them all?

What would Hera tell him?

Facts. Chopper was a droid after all. If Kanan wanted to win him over, he needed to come at it from a logical angle.

"Chop," Kanan said, "who maintains the _Ghost_?"

The astromech warbled that Ezra was picking it up and that he could do what Chopper could do, even if it was decidedly slow and poorly done. Kanan would have rolled his eyes. Fine.

"Who's our co-pilot? Who's our espionage agent? Who can survive and work out in the vacuum of space? Who can perform diagnostic analysis of the _Ghost_ and the _Phantom_? Who can provide holographic maps and communication? Who's got our backs when we need him to guard our rear? Who terrorizes us when he gets bored? Who's the practical joker of the crew? Who drives Zeb and Ezra mad? Who takes pleasure in it — well, let's not answer that one —"

Binary cracked through the air. Enough! Enough, he understood. Kanan could stop! It was clearly a fact that Chopper was vastly superior to all of the Crew in all of these matters.

Kanan smiled in triumph before it softened gently. "Chopper, you are very important to us, and if we lost you, I don't know how we'd get by. We might have to find another astromech, but they wouldn't be you, and though sometimes you're a pain, we still love and care about you. If something happened to you, Hera would be devastated, and you know it." At the mention of Hera, the droid slumped a little, knowing it would be true. "What happened on Malachor wasn't your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's Maul's. So enough of the guilt and worthlessness, alright buddy? There's enough of it as it is."

The droid slowly straightened, and warbled in binary that he appreciated Kanan's consideration, and that it would indeed be a shame for the crew to lose such fine help, and that Hera would be sad if something were to happen to him. But right at the end, he shifted in the direction of the walking stick and then back up at Kanan, as if to look him in the eyes, before Chopper told Kanan that he still felt like he should do something to assist him. At the very least, it would make his programming feel better.

Kanan sighed, but gave the droid another small smile as he relented.

"How about this, Chop. Whenever you're around, and it's convenient for both of us, you can lead me around and help me out? I'll even give you the stick to hold on to, to make sure that I don't use it."

Chopper bipped lowly a little as he processed the idea before the body of him straightened fully with a clack, and he warbled in binary that it was an acceptable proposal.

Kanan almost fell on his face when the walking stick he'd been leaning on was abruptly snatched away from him a final time by Chopper's tiny mechanical arms.

"Chopper!" Kanan said as he flailed, but was caught as Chopper shoved into him, righting him and giving him brutal metal support. "I told you _I'd_ give you the stick! Don't just take it from me."

Chopper warbled an apology that Kanan was positive he hadn't at all meant, and simply went to work as Kanan's seeing-eye droid. Kanan could tell that he was pleased, perhaps even a bit excited at the arrangement, and Kanan sighed but couldn't stop a smile from pulling at his lips. Chopper finally being Chopper.

The droid seemed so excited by the development that he asked if Kanan desired to do anything or go anywhere, now that he wasn't going to be utilizing the stick. Chopper even made suggestions. They could go to the very top of one of the fleet ships for Kanan to feel the hot breeze. They could visit AP-5 in the crammed Supply Bay. They could go for a flight, and Chopper would direct him. They could go outside for a long walk right now, in the burning and relentless desert heat. Chopper was clearly so excited to take on this role that he was forgetting that most of those suggestions either weren't feasible, or were dangerous for Kanan right now and would likely lead to injury in spite of Chopper's aid.

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, Chop," Kanan said gently with a smile, "But I think the only place I really want to go right now, is back to my bunk. Between you and the Force, I got a bit of a mental workout, and I just want to rest for a while."

Chopper's demeanor immediately wilted, the enthusiasm in his movements lowered, and Kanan stroked the top of his metal casing. "It's not that I don't want to. Just not right now. Maybe when I'm feeling better. Maybe we can have that walk in the morning when it's cooler and the sun hasn't come out yet. But right now, I'd really appreciate your help getting to my cabin."

The droid chittered in binary as he perked up before using a small metal arm to begin slowly tugging the Jedi in the direction of the cabins, and Kanan was relieved that Chopper was finally cooperating. Once Kanan got to his bunk, he might not get out of it until dinner. Or ever.

With the hiss of a door and an abrupt ninety degree turn, he followed after Chopper tiredly, but paused a few feet in when his normal senses pricked up and his brow furrowed in confusion. He'd been expecting the faint scent of leather and bacta that lingered in his room, but that wasn't what he smelled. Instead it was ... a soft scent. Clean and welcoming and one he'd know anywhere.

This cabin smelled of Hera.

Confused, Kanan looked down at the droid who warbled in curiosity.

"Chopper ... this is Hera's cabin. I asked you to take me to mine."

Chopper chittered in false ignorance happily as he let go of Kanan's hand and backed out of the cabin with a quick rev of his motors. A moment after the door had hissed shut. Just as Kanan was taking a step to go to his own cabin, he heard the locking mechanism take, and even as he tried to get the door open, he was unsurprised to find that it was shut tight from the outside.

"Chopper!" he yelled, but all he heard was a muffled warble as the astromech rolled past brightly, telling Kanan he should rest in his bunk so that when Chopper came back in an hour and a half, he would be more than sufficiently rested so that they could visit AP-5 before dinner. Kanan let his head tip back in exasperation again at yet another one of Chopper's games. "My bunk is in my cabin."

Faintly he could make out amused chittering in binary. Chopper certainly didn't think that was the case.

Kanan sighed and turned towards Hera's bunk before readily collapsing on top of it, his loose hair tickling his cheeks as he nosed gently into her pillow. He was too tired and mentally exhausted to care to fight the droid on this one.

The residual scent of Hera's skin and the gentle, clean lotion she used to keep it soft and maintained curled around him, caressing his senses and his mind as only she could, and he let it. It was wonderful, as it always was, and any irritation he had towards Chopper for locking him in here faded away with a tired and relieved sigh as the scent did wonders to sooth his aching mind.

It wasn't as if either he or Hera minded being in each other's cabin, but they maintained separate living quarters for a reason, for boundaries and lines that more and more didn't really seem to matter, and that neither of them truly cared for. With everything that had happened and their natural closeness, he suspected that Hera might propose a temporary living arrangement due to his blindness, until he became more accustomed to waking up in darkness or until his nightmares about Malachor ceased. When he'd woken up this morning, it had only been her calm and soothing presence that had grounded him.

He wouldn't turn her down, if she asked. Especially if it meant that he could listen to her as he fell asleep, surrounded by her and her scent. It wouldn't be a smart move and he should resist, but he was only a man, even if he was a Jedi, and if there was anyone he could be weak around, it was her. She'd proven that point well enough last night.

Besides. The rest of the crew would probably tell him it was about damn time he moved in with her. Zeb would probably be asking if he could move into the empty cabin immediately. He'd probably been waiting for something like this to happen ever since Ezra became a member of the crew.

These were all nice thoughts, gentle and soothing thoughts which surprised Kanan by bringing him closer and closer to the edge of sleep, guided by the scent of Hera. He felt himself relax, his mind unwinding from the stress of pushing himself through his meditation and figuring out what was up with Chopper. He found himself surprisingly close to the edge of sleep.

But there was a part of his concerns that he couldn't shake off, even if it had faded somewhat. It hadn't escaped his attention that Ezra had been avoiding him all day. He knew the others were doing what they could to look after him, but he also knew that he needed to talk to his Padawan. Doubts and pain and fear so easily festered in the kid, and he needed to nip this at the bud before it caused Ezra to fall any closer to the dark side. Somehow he needed to find a way to stop Ezra from worsening.

He hoped that in his ignorance, the Force would be able to guide him.

For now, he was willing to simply rest in Hera's bunk and let that conversation wait. Ezra was with Zeb right now somewhere on the planet, so it would do him no good to worry about it now. He'd do as Chopper suggested and refresh his mind for later and then, once they came back, he'd talk to the boy. But it was pointless now and he'd rest while he could. And who knew? Maybe, if he was lucky, Hera would come back soon and unlock the door. And, if he was _really_ lucky, she'd join him.

If not, it was still fine. He had her pillow and it smelled like her, and that was good enough for now to help him relax and let the darkness of sleep take him for a little while. Kanan wondered if Chopper knew that right now Hera was the only way he'd be able to achieve sleep. It wouldn't surprise him if he did, given Chopper's long perspective on his and Hera's relationship.

Crafty little droid. He'd have to thank Chopper when he woke up.

As a final thought before he dropped off into sleep, he realized Chopper still had his walking stick. And now the astromech had an hour and a half to get rid of it. With a soft huff into Hera's pillow Kanan wrote it off as a lost cause. There was no way he was going to find that damn thing now. It had probably been Chopper's plan all along.

In the distance he thought that he heard a mechanical 'whoop-whoop!' of triumph. Kanan smirked sleepily.

Crafty little droid, indeed.


	7. Burden of the Soul

**Summary:** The Talk. Ezra knew it was coming all day, and it was happening now. Kanan was at his door and all the pain and guilt he'd been trying to ignore since Malachor was back. And he knew there was no way his Master was going to let him out of this one.

* * *

 **Burden of the Soul**

Anger burned low, simmering at the bottom of Ezra's heart as he stoically held the Sith holocron between his hands in meditation. He was pleased, however, when it finally began to unlock.

Think like a Sith. That's all he had to do to open it, and he didn't feel that bad about it, if he was being honest. All he had to do was _think_ like one of _them_. But that didn't mean he had to _be_ a Sith. _Thinking_ like one and _being_ one were two different things, and he knew which was more dangerous.

Idly Ezra gazed at the scarlet light that seeped from the dark holocron, and he wondered what he'd do next. It had been a question he'd been playing with all day. Ever since he'd managed to open the small pyramid yesterday, he hadn't actually done anything with it. He had plenty of questions to ask and explore, and dozens of possibilities were now available to him, but … he hesitated. Once again, it was one thing to know he could open it, but something deep within him knew that to actively use it … that was something else. It would _mean_ something else, like he was going back on everything Kanan had taught him.

But he wasn't. He would be finding information, and that was all. It would be nothing more than that. Just intel, so that he and the Rebellion would be better prepared to face the threat of the Sith.

And yet, he still hesitated.

He could feel the holocron call out to him. It was like a seductive touch, one he wanted to submit to for all the promise and power it wished to bestow upon him. All of the knowledge of the Sith was right there, waiting for him to accept it and use it and he _wanted_ to. After all, one of the Jedi Codes was that there was no ignorance, only information. This was just gathering information. That's all it would be. It was just making himself more informed and it was a _good thing_ to do this. He was sure that it was, and how could Kanan fault him for that?

And again, he hesitated. If it was the case that even Sith information was a good thing, then why had he not yet told his Master that he'd succeeded in opening the dark holocron?

His anger wavered, replaced with deep doubt, and his meditative focus shattered. Immediately the tantalizing ruby light drew in on itself as the holocron locked shut, and Ezra tossed it to the side of him in agitation before dropping his forehead into his palm. Damn it. Just damn it.

Although he could open it, it wasn't easy, and it took him a lot of time. Once he'd returned to base with Zeb, he'd opted to skip dinner, and Zeb hadn't fought him on it. Ezra had been relieved that no one else had been on the _Ghost_ to try and talk him into a meal, especially Kanan. The _Ghost_ was his, for the time being, and in his privacy he'd immediately dropped into meditation. It had taken Ezra an hour to unlock the holocron, a grueling hour, and he sensed that he wouldn't have enough time to try to open it again before the others came back.

Because he'd lost his focus, he'd lost his chance at gleaning even a little knowledge about the Sith. But what bothered him most was that he wasn't sure if he was actually displeased at the loss of opportunity, or not. As agitated as he felt … he also felt relieved, and he didn't know which he felt more strongly. Which he _wanted_ to feel more strongly.

Either way, he'd try again the next chance he got, whenever that would be. Ezra knew he had to be careful. If Zeb caught him opening the Sith holocron, he knew the Lasat wouldn't be as understanding as he'd been earlier. And that wasn't even taking into account Kanan. His Master could probably sense the darkness from across the _Ghost_ , and would know the moment Ezra opened it. He was sure. That meant he had to be careful, and clever about this.

It meant secrets and it meant lies.

Ezra breathed to control the rising heat in his heart as he swept the holocron into the drawer beneath his bunk, unwilling to think about the missed opportunity, or how conflicted he was feeling about it. Either way, he shouldn't have lost his focus. He shouldn't have let his guilt and his doubt get the better of him. It was his own fault and from now on he'd take Kanan's insistence on meditative control more seriously.

He had to, if he was going to get stronger, and more powerful in the Force.

He had to, if he was going to stop what happened on Malachor from ever happening again.

In the stillness of the _Ghost_ , Ezra's brow furrowed as he heard the ramp being lowered, and then the rev of Chopper's wheels as the astromech boarded. Ezra's heart froze when he heard the sound of solid footsteps following close behind. Holding his breath, he waited to hear if anymore footsteps would fall after, but it was just silence. Chopper and that single pair of familiar footsteps.

Chopper and Kanan.

The smallest wisp of fear curled in Ezra's chest at the presence of his Master so near, but he quickly crushed it with a breath. He shouldn't fear his Master, and besides, Kanan would be able to sense it, and that was the _last_ thing he wanted. Ezra didn't want to give himself away in the Force. He didn't want to explain why.

That didn't mean that as those footsteps drew closer and closer to his door, something deep within him quaked.

Ezra's heart threatened to burst from his chest as a steady stream of sharp knocks echoed metallically within the walls of his cabin. For a moment all Ezra could do was stare in horror at the door. It was happening, what he'd been trying to avoid all day.

The Talk.

"It's me."

Ezra couldn't stop himself from swallowing past the dry lump that had abruptly grown in his throat, nor the anxious tremble around his heart at the familiar and terrible sound of his Master's muffled voice. Thoughtlessly his eyes flew across his bunk to make sure that the holocron was in the drawer so Kanan wouldn't see it … and he almost choked in guilt. It wouldn't have mattered if the holocron was still sitting square in the palm of his hand. Kanan wouldn't be able to see it if it was right in front of him.

And that was Ezra's fault.

That thought strangely numbed him, forcing all of the dark emotions he was feeling down and away. It didn't banish them, Ezra could still feel them waiting like unspoken threats, but for now … he felt very little. It was good, if they were going to talk.

He hoped it would last. He knew it wouldn't.

"Can I come in?" Kanan asked gently after Ezra failed to respond, and realizing that he needed to _do something_ , he took a deep breath and wet his lips.

"Yeah. Come in." Ezra couldn't help but grimace at the sound of his voice, raspy and tight, and he just _knew_ Kanan had heard it. To maintain the numbness enveloping his soul, he mentally repeated the first Code over and over to keep him calm. To prevent his heart from betraying his panic at coming face to face with his Master.

The door hissed open and Kanan walked in slowly, cautiously, but alone and with intention. Chopper had vanished down the hall and the ease with which Kanan had stepped over the bottom lip of the door with care bespoke knowledge and awareness. The numbness around Ezra's heart rocked as he stared.

"You can see?" he blurted out in surprise and hope before he heard himself and quickly clarified, "I mean, you're using your Force sense? It's working?"

"Weakly," Kanan admitted, but with a small smile as he leaned against the wall across from Ezra, arms crossed as he turned his blindfolded gaze around the cabin. "I can make you out, but it's like an outline of you. No real details, but I know you're there. I know the dimensions of the room, but other things, smaller or faster things, are harder." His Master smiled more widely at him before saying. "But it's something. In time this won't even be a problem."

Ezra wished he felt as excited as Kanan did. He was happy for him and his success, there was no denying it, but … well, why was Kanan even in this position in the first place?

The guilt was back and he looked away from his Master and the crisp strip of cloth across his eyes. He wondered how Kanan could stand to be in the same room with him. _He_ could barely stand to be in the same room with _himself_.

As if sensing Ezra's mood, Kanan's smile slipped and slowly took on the concerned look Ezra'd know anywhere, even without the aid of Kanan's expressive blue eyes. He could feel it in the Force. The concern. The worry. The worry for _him_. Kanan wasn't hiding it from him, and it was clear what direction the conversation was about to turn. Ezra felt like a thick slug was in his throat, and wished it would gag him hard enough to leave him unconscious so he wouldn't have to deal with this. He wished the numbness would return.

It didn't, and Kanan's voice slipped through the air, concerned and pointed no matter how much Ezra wished it wasn't.

"You've been avoiding me all day, Ezra."

Ezra didn't say anything, just looked away as his eyes fell on his drawer and the dark secret it held, still calling to him with its siren song and seductive light. What could he say? It was obvious that was _exactly_ what he'd been doing all day, and everyone knew it. Kanan was just stating facts, but _why_?

Kanan frowned before turning his head away once the silence had grown long, and Ezra panicked. Suddenly words burst out of him at the sharp thought that he'd disappointed Kanan _again_ , and he just … he just couldn't. Not again. Not so soon.

"I figured you'd want a break from me," he muttered lowly as he leaned forward on his bunk, hands gripping the sides of his mattress until his fingers turned pale. "After everything that happened yesterday … I thought it was a good idea to leave you alone."

Technically Ezra wasn't lying. So what if it also meant that Kanan would leave him alone too? So what if it meant that he didn't have to see the evidence of his mistakes _right there_ in crisp white? He could smell the bacta from here and it made his stomach roll with nausea. He'd _done_ that. And he couldn't get away from it with Kanan right there, and it was a _strong_ reason he had for avoiding him.

But not the strongest. And of course, it seemed as if Kanan knew it.

"That's not the full truth, Ezra." The firm tone Kanan always took when he was acting the part of 'Master' was clear in his voice, and Ezra pursed his lips hard because he knew he wasn't going to be able to weasel his way out of this one, like he'd managed to with Sabine and Zeb.

The truth was coming out, like it or not. And he did not like it.

Angrily, he figured he might as well get this over with quickly, like ripping a bandage off a wound. Maybe then Kanan would leave him alone.

As much as he wished that would be the case, he didn't think he'd be so lucky.

"I feel guilty about what happened yesterday," Ezra replied with sharp heat lining his voice. "I feel guilty about _all_ of it. About Maul, about Ahsoka." He paused, the heat in his voice slipping a little, and Ezra's eyes fell to the floor, unable to look at Kanan. "I feel guilty about _you_. You and … and your eyes. That's why I've been avoiding you." As an afterthought, he mercilessly added as a form of self-flagellation, "That, and to spare you from having to deal with a failure of a Padawan."

"You're not a failure, Ezra," Kanan retorted quickly, and Ezra couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. Typical Kanan.

"Would you tell me if I was?"

"Maybe not using the term 'failure', but even if you were a failure, that would be _my_ failure, not yours."

"That didn't answer the question, Kanan," Ezra pointed out ruthlessly, now vindicated in his self-characterization, and he watched as Kanan grew still and quiet, the line of his lips pressed tight, his brow furrowed in what Ezra knew to be controlled anger.

"You want a direct answer? Yes. Yes, Ezra, I would tell you, and I'm telling you now that you're not. If there's a problem, Ezra, it's not that you're a failure. It's that you're strong in the Force, and you're still learning. You're still adjusting."

Something dark sat heavy on Ezra's chest and made him see red. "Adjusting," he muttered lowly. "Kanan, I know you might not believe it, but I train _endlessly_. I think I've had plenty of time to _adjust_ to the Force."

"You've learned what takes most Jedi at least fifteen years to learn in _two_ ," Kanan rounded firmly, almost sharply, and that strange edge made Ezra listen hard, even though he didn't want to. "You got the crash course, Ezra, and believe it or not, you have _excelled_. Your learning curb was ridiculous, and you took to the Force faster than I'd ever have imagined!"

Ezra clenched his fists in his lap as the Force slammed into him with Kanan's conviction, his truth, and Ezra knew beyond a doubt that his Master wasn't lying.

"You're only growing stronger in your abilities, stronger every day, and is it any real wonder that I'm not only amazed, but a little worried by it as well? Worried for you? You're growing so fast in your abilities that I'm concerned about your control and your maturity with them. They're still so new to you, Ezra, you don't fully know their pitfalls and dangers yet. You aren't familiar enough with the Force to really know how they affect your thoughts and your actions, as well as those around you."

"Then I'm a failure at that then," Ezra pointed out with dark pride, sick that it was true, but proud at the same time that he was right about being a failure about _something_.

"No, Ezra," Kanan said immovably enough to break through Ezra's pity party. "You're not a failure at any of it. Just inexperienced and a bit reckless. That's all. That's not failure. Ezra, that's _growth_."

Silence split the air between them like a chasm, and even though Kanan was blind, it still felt as if they were staring each other down, locked in a battle of wills. But as stubborn as Ezra could be, in the enclosed space of his cabin with Kanan right there, that white bandage _right there_ … he was the first to look away, angry and hating himself for it.

"Even if it is _growth_ ," he hissed lowly, "I'm still guilty of failing you. Of abandoning you. I still wasn't there when you needed me most."

"Ezra, while we were on Malachor you saved me _twice_. You had my back when the Inquisitors came, and if not for you I might have died or gotten injured long before we even made it to the temple. How is that you failing me?"

The Padawan shrugged off those instances as if they were nothing but flecks of dirt, inconsequential evidence. "But the one time you _needed_ me, I wasn't there. I was at the top of the temple trying to get _knowledge_ while Maul was burning your eyes out!"

Kanan flinched, and Ezra snapped his jaw shut fast enough to make his teeth click. He'd been yelling, and at some point he'd stood so that he could yell directly at his Master as he threw his blunt and cruel words at Kanan like a blade. And Kanan had let him.

Disgusted with himself, he dropped back onto his bunk and pressed his face into his hands, wishing a black hole would open up below him and consume him, and every awful thing about him.

The silence came again, but this time it didn't feel like a distance between him and Kanan. It didn't feel like anything at all. Just … empty waiting, void of emotion for the moment. Nothing more than a potential moment waiting on his shoulders to be born. The backs of his eyes burned with tears he was trying desperately to hold back, and it was a while before he trusted himself to speak again.

"All I'm trying to say, Kanan, is that I have a good reason to feel guilty. Maybe you're right and I'm just … inexperienced and growing, or I'm not mature enough yet in the Force to know better. But there's no denying that I … I didn't listen and I didn't choose you. And you paid for my choice."

Kanan's voice was quiet, but heart wrenchingly calm and sure. "You couldn't have known it would happen, and it's not something you should feel guilty about. No one can predict the future, and it's as much my fault that this happened as it is anyone's."

"No, Kanan," Ezra interrupted, surprising himself, and maybe even Kanan, with the softness of his voice. Usually when pushed into a corner like this, he would erupt with shouting and anger like he had a moment ago, but this time … this time, no. "I don't think you're right. I think I have every reason to feel guilty."

Kanan's lips pulled down into a frown, but instead of arguing against him like Ezra half thought he might, he simply pulled out a chair from the small desk by the wall and sat down in it in front of him. Ezra watched cautiously, but once his Master was settled and only a few feet separated them, Kanan asked, "Could you tell me why you should feel guilty?"

Ezra was unnerved because where he'd expected Kanan to demand an answer from him … he had instead asked for it. Requested would be a better word. There had been no hard tone in his voice. There had been no force. It had been a calm tone, completely noncombative, and Ezra had an abrupt vision of Master Depa Billaba in his mind.

In Kanan's holocron, there were a handful of lessons recorded which featured Master Billaba. He'd watched all of them to understand the woman who'd trained his Master, and Ezra was struck because Kanan had just _sounded_ like Master Billaba had. Endlessly calm. Endlessly understanding. Endlessly patient. It was so clear in that moment that Kanan had been her Padawan, and it was so sudden and so like and unlike Kanan that Ezra was already spilling his beans before he'd even realized he'd opened his mouth.

"You trusted me, Kanan. Everyone did. And I _really_ thought I knew what was going on. I really thought that … that I knew what Maul was doing. What he was doing to me." Ezra's voice shook and he paused for a long moment to take a shaky breath, but he continued. He'd started and he needed to finish. "You were right, Kanan, and I didn't listen. Maul was feeding me lies, everything I wanted to hear, and I just … I listened. I didn't even argue with him and we both know I _always_ argue. I wasn't cautious. I wasn't thinking."

Unable to stop from looking timidly up at his blind Master, he said in a voice that was almost a whisper, "Kanan, I wasn't there for you. If I'd been there, Maul wouldn't have attacked you because he would still have been trying to win me over. How can I not feel guilty when I _know_ the truth about that, and the truth of my own thoughts and actions?"

Kanan didn't say anything for a long moment while he thought, and Ezra couldn't help but feel nervous about it. What if … what if after this, Kanan didn't want to be his Master anymore? What if he didn't think that Ezra could be a Jedi anymore?

What if Kanan finally saw that Ezra was _right_?

When Kanan finally did move, it was to lean forward in his seat, elbows on thighs, hands clasped and lowered between his legs as his head sank down as if in thought.

"You know," Kanan said softly, almost as if he were speaking to the dead. "I know the guilt you're feeling. Like you've failed the one person there is no way in the Force that you could ever fail. Believe it or not … I know it."

Ezra's brow furrowed in confusion. Kanan knew his guilt? How could he know how it felt to let your Master down so badly that it _changed_ things? Kanan didn't fail like that. What could Kanan possibly have done that was as bad as this?

But he could feel the truth of the statement in the Force, and he could feel it. Kanan's guilt. It was an old thing, a warn thing, weakened by many years of time … but it _was_ the same.

"I had a Master too, remember?" Kanan sighed. "You aren't the only one who's failed a Master."

Understanding and surprise slammed into Ezra.

"Are … Are you talking about Master Billaba?" Ezra asked slowly, both cautious and excited about anything of Kanan's past. It was so rare that he ever spoke about it, that the prospect of his Master opening up, even a little, made his heart race. Of course Kanan was talking about Master Billaba.

But how had he failed her? Whenever Kanan spoke of her, it was with great admiration and respect. If there had ever been any guilt on Kanan's part, it either hadn't been there, or he'd hidden it better than Ezra could ever hope to hide his.

"Yes. I'm talking about Master Billaba," Kanan agreed, turning his head up for a moment. "You know that I only achieved the rank of Padawan before Order 66."

Ezra nodded slowly to make sure that Kanan caught the motion. How could he forget, after the Grand Inquisitor and the temple on Lothal? Kanan echoed the nod almost mindlessly, his dark hair shining in the dim light of the cabin. His Master opened his mouth to say something, to continue in some way, but Ezra watched with growing concern as he closed it again, then repeated the motion a second time as if he couldn't figure out what to say. As if the words, which usually came so easily to his Master, escaped him.

"Kanan —?"

"I was on mission with her the night of Order 66," Kanan abruptly said, cutting Ezra off decisively. "Back in those days, during the Clone Wars … I was with her all the time. Me, her, and our clones … we were the best team." Kanan flagged, and Ezra watched as his Master struggled through this. He wondered how many times Kanan had told this story to someone else? He wondered if even _Hera_ knew what Kanan was telling him now.

Somehow … he didn't think so.

His Master swallowed so hard that Ezra heard it from across the small distance between them. "The night … that final night, our clones were given Order 66 and they betrayed us. After months spent fighting and protecting each other, they tried to kill us as if we had betrayed _them_. Like _we_ were the enemy." Kanan's voice was tighter than Ezra had ever heard before. Like this hurt. Like this was hard, and all Ezra could do was bear witness. "My Master … she knew we were running out of time to escape and she ordered me to run."

Ezra could almost see it in his mind's eye. A younger Kanan fighting beside his Master against a flurry of blaster fire and anonymous white suits, time running against them as more clones arrived to bring them down.

"You didn't listen, did you?" Ezra guessed, his voice surprisingly tight as well. Kanan was Kanan. He would have disobeyed an order like that for anyone, especially his Master, he was sure. But then Kanan sighed before smiling darkly, and Ezra wasn't as sure anymore.

"No, Ezra. I did what Master Billaba told me. I ran." Kanan paused, swallowing hard again, but it didn't seem to help given that his voice sounded rough and raspy as he continued. "I left her behind."

Icy dread swept through Ezra as he guessed again at what happened next, and was nauseous with the surety that this time, he was right. Kanan only nodded.

"She died a moment later, protecting me so that I could escape. And I left her there, with our treacherous clones in the dirt, and _ran_. Like a _coward_." He'd all but spat the last word, and Ezra wondered if there was more, if it got worse than this. "I was her Padawan. I should have been there for her, covered her back and disobeyed her even though it would have resulted in _both_ of our deaths. That's what I should have done … but I didn't. She sacrificed herself so that I could escape, but even after all these years it still feels like betrayal."

Kanan took a deep, shuddering breath, and Ezra found he'd taken one with him, sharing in his Master's pain. But as Kanan started up again, the hurt seemed to have tempered out, and he was just … quiet. Quiet and real and weathered, like well-used leather. "I get it, though. After years to think about it … she was right. I am here because of her sacrifice. It was what any Jedi Master would have done for their Padawan. As a Master to you now, I know it more truly than anything, so I understand … but I don't think I'm ever going to shake the feeling that I abandoned her to die. Even knowing … it's hard."

Ezra didn't know what to say.

"Kanan …."

Kanan surprised Ezra when he gave him a tired smile, small and filled with old pain. "I know that our situations aren't the same, Ezra … but I need you to know that the guilt you're feeling for me and what happened … I know it. And as much as it pains me, as much as I wish I could spare you, and take it from you, I know that you're probably not going to let it go. I wish that you would, but I know that I haven't been able to in over fifteen years. How could I expect you to in a day?"

Ezra didn't say anything. He didn't think he could, given how tight his throat felt. All he could do was listen, and watch as Kanan pushed off from his chair to take a seat next to him on the bunk's mattress.

"I know that you're holding the guilt about what happened on Malachor deep in your heart," Kanan said with a gentleness that made Ezra's eyes ruthlessly mist. "I know that it hurts, and it feels like it will never go away. And I won't lie to you Ezra, it might not. It lessens over time, and you might be able to come to terms with it … but it's the kind of thing that lingers, like a stain."

Kanan looked at him, and Ezra was sure that if that white strip of bandage had instead been perfect and blue eyes, they'd have looked on him with so much kindness and hope that Ezra was sure he'd be moved to tears instantly.

"But I want to tell you something that my Master was never able to tell me. Something more than anything that I wish I could have heard, even once." The Force connection between him and Kanan seemed to grow, and whatever Kanan said next, Ezra knew for certain that it came straight from Kanan's heart, honest and true and blinding in its intensity. He almost didn't _want_ to hear it.

But he did. More than anything, he did.

A warm hand slipped along Ezra's shoulders, firm and _there_ , just as it always had been, and he knew it always would be. "Whether this was your fault or not, Ezra, I forgive you. I know it's hard to believe. You might not even believe me, but it's true. And I hope that by knowing that, it will help you do something I have never been able to do, and forgive yourself."

"But I don't deserve to, Kanan!" Tears burned down Ezra's cheeks, hot and pained and so abrupt that it left him reeling. "After everything I've done —"

"Come here," Kanan said gently as strong arms swept around Ezra's shoulders, and Ezra fell apart for the second time that day at the contact. His emotions were ragged and rough and sad and pained, similar to how they'd felt when he'd lost it with Zeb. But with Kanan it was different. It went deeper, and it hurt more, and all Ezra could do was cling to his Master as his emotions hit him again and again like relentless waves as Kanan's words echoed in his mind. It seemed to go on and on, and Kanan held him through it all.

Ages later Ezra's emotions finally seemed to quiet, leaving him spent … but lighter.

Kanan stroked Ezra's hair and his back, just solid and there, and Ezra's heart tightened bittersweet at so much care and compassion. No matter how bad Ezra screwed up or made a mess of things, no matter what happened, Kanan was always there, steady as a mountain. Always so sure in Ezra, in ways Ezra could never be about himself.

"I know you feel like you don't deserve it," Kanan finally said softly, pulling him away so that they were facing each other. "But I hope one day you'll believe me when I say that you do."

Ezra didn't say anything for or against Kanan's words. Everything was just too raw to even think about something that big, so he tucked it away in the back of his mind, to mull over later. For now, he simply took a breath and cleaned his eyes and his nose, and felt for the first time all day as if a burden had lifted from his soul. It wasn't perfect. A deep part of him still clung to the guilt and pain, but for now, with Kanan here and his understanding … well the guilt didn't feel as if it was going to eat him alive.

"Thank you, Kanan, for telling me about Master Billaba," he finally said, though his voice shook. "I know it was hard."

It was Kanan's turn to remain silent, but Ezra understood. He felt like he really did. Kanan's account of his past had been something between them, something personal, and Ezra was honored that his Master had shared his pain and his guilt with him. But it stayed here. And that was fine.

For the moment if felt as if he and Kanan were okay, and the relief that brought him was more heartening than he'd realized. They were Master and Padawan, and right now it _felt_ more like they were Master and Padawan again.

And it was a good thing.

Kanan shifted beside him, and Ezra looked up to see his Master give him a crooked smile before he heaved his body up to stand.

"Come on, kid. We've got training to do."

Ezra gave a ghost of a chuckle, but it was something, and he was surprised that no matter how weak it had been … it had been real. "Training? You know, we're still supposed to have the day off, even if it's almost over."

"Yes, training," Kanan said pointedly as he rolled his shoulders, shaking out his body to loosen his muscles. "No rest for the wicked, Padawan, and I think you're going to like this training."

Ezra looked up curiously at Kanan before picking up a small ball that had been tossed into his lap. It fit well in the palm of his hand and was covered in leather, making it somewhat soft to the touch.

What was this for?

"I don't get it, Kanan."

His Master grinned. "You're going to help me train. I need to improve my Force sense, and I'm giving you the opportunity to pay me back for everything I dished out to you on Lothal."

Realization slammed into Ezra as he looked between the ball and his Master in surprise. Memories of his own training so high up in Lothal's sky trickled through his mind, and Ezra knew that Kanan wanted him to do the same for him.

Despite the Talk, it made Ezra uneasy. He wanted to, now that he realized what Kanan was getting at. He wanted to help. He wanted to help his Master grow strong again, and yeah. Maybe he _would_ like a little retribution for the hell that had been the beginning of his Jedi training. But what if he screwed up again? What if he accidentally hurt Kanan? He didn't know if he could live with himself if he did that again.

But it was obvious that Kanan wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer, and that he trusted Ezra. And Ezra … he wanted to be worthy of that trust again. He wanted to _feel_ as if he was worthy of it again, and sensed the only way that was going to happen was if he tested himself with Kanan. If he proved that he wouldn't hurt Kanan again.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Shouldn't we wait until your eyes are more healed?" Ezra bounced the ball in his hand a few times, testing its weight. "What if you start bleeding on me? Hera will be angry."

"I don't doubt it," Kanan agreed with an uneasy chuckle. "But I think the anger would be more directed at the fleet's doctor than you, if I end up needing medical attention. So long as you don't aim for my face, I think we'll be fine."

Ezra once again looked at the ball resting in his hand, then Kanan who stood waiting. He bounced the ball one more time, then with the smallest of smiles he tossed the ball gently at his Master.

He didn't think he was the only one surprised when it suddenly appeared in Kanan's hand, an inch from striking his chest.

Ezra blinked at the sudden and unexpected shock of it, but Kanan's features, what Ezra could make of them, told Ezra that he hadn't expected it either. The older Jedi lifted the ball in his hand, his head tracking it as if to study it before he also bounced the ball in his palm. It didn't go up very high, and the hesitancy and tentative nature of the movement translated itself in the uneasy wobble of the ball as it landed. But then a dark eyebrow raised, and a smile edged the corner of Kanan's lips before he swung his hand back.

"Catch."

Ezra watched the slow and easy passage of the ball as it traveled through the air towards him, and he had to lean and reach, almost to the point of pulling himself out of his seated position, to catch it before it hit the wall.

"Your aim needs work," Ezra couldn't help but tease with a smile.

Kanan grinned. "I meant to do that."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

His Master chuckled before he turned towards the door.

"Come on. Help your old Master learn a new trick."

"You're not _that_ old," Ezra countered with a roll of his eyes as he stood to follow Kanan out, but paused once he was on his feet. Before he forgot, Ezra reached under his pillow and withdrew a slim metal stick. He didn't know how it had gotten there, but when he'd returned with Zeb, it had been a rude thing to slam his head against when he'd laid down. It could extend and collapse at the touch of a button, and its built-in sensor alerted him when the end of it neared something.

"Hey, Kanan. Is this yours? I found it under my pillow when I got back earlier. Did you put it there?" When he'd first noticed the walking stick, he'd wondered if this was a passive-aggressive way Kanan had planned to get Ezra to speak to him, but it hadn't made sense because that just wasn't Kanan's way. It was clear enough by the look Kanan had on his face that he hadn't known it had been there at all.

Kanan gave Ezra a great sigh before he reached his hand out to take it. "It is, and I didn't." Ezra was about to ask how it got under his pillow then, but after a moment Kanan added blandly, "If you ever happen to see Chopper sneaking off with it, tell me. You wouldn't believe the hell he put me through earlier today."

For a second Ezra was tempted to ask about it, but figured it was better that he didn't. Sometimes Chopper just didn't make sense. Ezra figured it was outdated programming. The droid was going senile.

Feeling better than he had all day, he followed Kanan out of the cabin, but before the door slid shut he let his eyes linger on his drawer, where the Sith holocron waited for him. Although this talk with Kanan had cleared the air a little and made him feel better, that didn't mean that he would stop trying to use the holocron. Now more than ever, his Master was at his weakest, and the threats of the Empire, the Inquisitors, and Maul were growing. They needed to figure out how to defeat them, and the answers lay within the small red and gold pyramid.

Resolve grew in him. For the Rebellion, he would find an answer. For the _Ghost_ crew, and most of all, for his parents, Ahsoka, and Kanan, he would find a way to bring their enemies down. Bring them _all_ down.

For his family, old and new, he would do whatever it took to find a way to keep them safe, and bring peace to the Galaxy.

And if in the process, he found Maul and got his revenge for everything the old Sith had done, well, that was just icing on the cake. Necessary icing. As a matter of fact, he hoped that the icing would come first.

But for now, he'd let the dark holocron with all of its secrets sit in the dark until it was time, and as the door closed on his cabin, he followed Kanan's footsteps, ready and determined.


	8. Dodge Ball

**Dodge Ball**

"What, Master? Not enjoying the payback — I mean, training?"

Kanan was glaring. Or Ezra knew he _would_ be glaring, and all Ezra could do was smile back in poorly concealed amusement as he Force threw _several_ balls at Kanan, watching the older Jedi practically dance in an effort to miss the projectiles.

This was great, just too great. After all those milk cartons, revenge was _sweet_. He could get used to this sort of training. Oh, Ezra could get used to this sort of training indeed.

But he had to admit, Kanan _was_ getting better, and he was getting better _quickly_. In the beginning of the session, he'd get hit about fifty percent of the times Ezra tossed the ball. But in the last half hour that percentage had decreased rapidly, and Ezra had upped his game as Kanan advanced.

Ezra's smile turned to one of alarm when one of the balls abruptly changed directions and struck him sharply in the forehead, making him stagger back, his hold on the balls in the air vanishing.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" called Kanan from across the way smugly, arms crossed and standing tall with a smirk on his lips, shadowed by the setting sun. ""I thought you were supposed to be training me, not the other way around. Situational awareness, kid."

"Situational awareness," Ezra grumbled as he rubbed the sore spot on his forehead before reaching out carefully and silently with the Force. Situational awareness? Well, perhaps he should test _Kanan_ _''s_ situational awareness? He was a Jedi, after all, and this was _his_ training.

Seemed fair he get a taste of his own medicine.

The only hiccup in his plan was that when he tried to raise the balls, only half of them lifted. The other half stayed down, and the look on Kanan's face was telling.

"You start this game of dodge ball, Padawan, and it means war."

With a flick of his wrist, Ezra pulled the balls he could control quickly to his side, and he lifted his chin and grinned.

"Bring it, old man."

"Oh-ho! Is that right?" Kanan asked lightly as the balls he owned began to raise around him, ready and waiting. "I'll try not to go easy on you then."

"You go easy on me and you won't have a _chance_ at winning," Ezra shot back, and with the Force he willed his set of balls forward. He was going to win. He'd go easy though, because Kanan was still blind and still improving and certainly not at one hundred percent yet, but that didn't mean Ezra couldn't have a _little_ more fun in his revenge.

Fifteen minutes later, Ezra was staring flabbergast at Kanan and the hoard of balls floating around him like a wall of holy retribution. His Master smirked at him.

"Told you if you started this, it would be war," Kanan said smugly. "Now, how about we practice evasion tactics?"

Ezra was already moving before the first ball shot his way, and he snorted to himself. And here Kanan said that Ezra's growth in the Force was astounding. Kanan was attacking him blind and with the Force as if he'd done it every day of his life.

In spite of the turned tables, Ezra smiled.


	9. Normalish

**Normalish**

"What's that sound?"

Sabine hardly looked up at Hera's question as she continued to tinker with a new color bomb of her own design. When it exploded, it would do so in the form of a starbird, like the one on her breastplate, huge and vibrant and beautiful. That way when it was seen, everyone would know it was the Artist who'd been there and done what she did best with beautiful, glorious explosions.

"The boys are all playing dodge ball. Zeb and Chopper joined Ezra and Kanan a few minutes ago."

A few soft thumps could he heard through the _Ghost_ as balls hit the side of the ship, and Sabine watched Hera sigh from her reclined position on the couch, datapad in hand.

"It could be worse."

A great Thump! sounded through the _Ghost's_ interioras what sounded like a body collided with the ship's exterior. It was quickly followed by a string of muffled cursing, gruff and loud and threatening, which left no question as to who'd been thrown. Sabine looked over at Hera curiously, lifting an eyebrow in question and Hera simply sighed again, heavier than before, and resolutely kept her eyes trained on her datapad.

"It could still be worse," Hera muttered to herself as she shook her head, flipping through reports, but Sabine smiled when she saw that Hera's lips had turned up at the edges with gently contained amusement and relief.

Sabine continued tinkering, just as happy as Hera was that their Jedi had somehow managed to work past the funk that had been lingering between them all day. Everyone had been worried about both of them after Malachor, but it seemed that a day off to rest and recover had done a lot to help everyone heal and move on.

After all, the boys were all acting like clowns again, and both Sabine and Hera were shaking their heads at the immature antics like they usually did. Things were settling again. Maybe it wasn't perfectly normal, one single day couldn't fix everything, but for now … well, for now it seemed like everyone had found a way to smile again.

And how could Sabine not smile at that?

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you enjoyed A Day of Recovery! I'd love to know what you thought :]


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